Guns and Roses
by RosieWilde
Summary: Bella and Edwardʼs relationship is interrupted by WWI. He dreams of glory as a soldier, and she must figure out life without him. A moving story of how friendship turns to love when survival is in doubt. ExB AU/AH. Finalist in the Indie TwiFic Awards.
1. Peace

**Mandatory disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. This goes for the whole story.**

**OK, this is my very first fanfiction attempt so go easy on me :) I really hope you like it.**

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Peace

**EPOV**

_June 1917_

The stem of feathery grass tickled my cheek as I lay, staring up at the cornflower blue sky, watching the pillowing fluffy mounds of clouds scud across above my head. I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my face, basking in the orange glow that surrounded me from behind my eyelids. If I lay completely still, I could hear the summer breeze wafting through the tree tops and rustling the plump green leaves above me, and every so often a twig would fall and drop into the quiet stream that bubbled a few yards away, plinking over the pebbles in the bottom as it was carried along by the cool, shallow water.

A twig landed on my neck, disturbing my reflections, and I brushed it away as I tried to sink back into my meditative state. A moment later, a pebble from the brook dropped into my upturned palm and I closed my hand around it, puzzled by the feeling of the cold water on my warm skin.

I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against the brightness of the mid-afternoon sun, and glanced around me, only to see that I was alone in the meadow as I had been all afternoon. I closed my eyes again but found it practically impossible to relax back into the calmness I had experienced before, so instead I ran my fingers over the smooth texture of the pebble, wondering how it could have landed so perfectly in my palm. I was struck, mid-contemplation, by a broken piece of a stick to my ankle and I shot upright, staring around me as I sat alone in the tall grass.

Peering behind me, I saw a flash of brown disappear behind one of the larger trees and I fixed my eyes on it as I rose slowly to my feet. "Bella," I called softly, "I know you're there, and you'd better come out now. There's nowhere else for you to hide."

Narrowing my eyes, I stalked quietly towards the tree, not taking my eyes off it as I edged closer to where I had seen the movement vanish. However, as I approached, there was a sudden noise as the person who had been hiding behind the tree took off into the woods at the edge of the clearing, darting between the trees, their long brown hair flying out behind them. With a cry, I started off after them, tearing past the trees into the shady copse, hardly noticing as my shirt caught on low branches until one nearly collided with my face and I had to duck to avoid it.

I could see that I was catching her up and I put on an extra burst of speed, soon getting close enough that I could hear her shallow breathing as she struggled to outrun me. Using my height advantage, I stretched my legs and gained on her, throwing out my arms to catch her round the waist and stop her from evading me. She squirmed at first, but soon realised that I was too strong for her and stopped wriggling. I let her go and she slumped to the ground, her legs twisted up in her long brown skirt, panting to catch her breath.

I dropped down next to her and leaned back against the trunk of the nearest tree, exhaling deeply. As her breathing returned to normal Bella looked over at me, a mischievous smile on her face, her eyes crinkled up in amusement, and I found myself smiling unconsciously back at her, almost as a reflex.

"Is it entertaining for you to throw things at me when I am defenceless?" I asked her, amusement colouring my voice, and she laughed, a beautiful sound that seemed to echo back from the trees surrounding us to chime in my ears.

"I'm sorry," she gasped in between giggles, "but you looked so peaceful lying there spread-eagled with tufts of grass in your hair; the opportunity was too hard to resist."

I frowned at her, trying to appear severe which only set her off into a further peal of laughter, and after a few moments I joined her, revelling in the carefree afternoon and the feeling of the sun warming my back from in between the trees.

When we finally stopped laughing and quieted down again I asked, "How did you know I'd be here?"

"I didn't," she replied, "I just came here to walk and enjoy the sunshine." She paused, looking at me sideways from under her lashes, which set my heart pounding in my chest although I couldn't fathom why.

"But now that we're both here," she continued, "I have something I need to discuss with you."

"Oh, yes?" I inquired, my interest peaked as I leaned forwards slightly so that she could whisper in my ear conspiratorially.

"From what I have heard," she breathed, "somebody is having a birthday tomorrow."

She pulled back to grin at me, her eyes twinkling as I rolled my own at her, slightly embarrassed.

"My, my," she continued, smirking at me, "our little Edward's going to be eighteen years old."

I bristled at her words and puffed out my chest, staring down at her imposingly as she sat on the forest floor. "I am still three months older than you," I retorted slightly haughtily, raising my eyebrows at her challengingly. "You won't be eighteen until September, so mind who you call 'little'."

She smiled back at me, indulging me by allowing my small tantrum, and immediately I felt ashamed and dropped my gaze. It was becoming increasingly difficult to know who I was supposed to be at any given time; my parents were expecting me to sprout into a man at any moment, and while I knew I was as tall or strong as any man, inside I sometimes still felt like the child I had been a few years ago.

For a moment I wanted to ask Bella if she had ever felt the same way; she was my oldest friend and we had grown up together so I was sure she would not think badly of me for asking. However, before I could get the words out, she stood up, pulling me to my feet along with her, and set off back towards the clearing with me in tow.

"Bella?" I asked, slightly confused.

She ignored me and kept walking back, never checking behind her to see if I was following. I smiled quickly to myself – she knew as well as I did that I would follow her wherever she went. As we approached the edge of the clearing, she stalked out into the middle of the one remaining patch of sunlight, glaring at something on the ground, and turned abruptly to face me.

"Edward Masen," she rebuked me, capturing my attention.

"Isabella Swan," I replied, merriment dancing in my eyes as I watched her, waiting for the next part of the statement. I couldn't help but notice the way her chestnut hair shone in the sunlight, its ripples catching the light and throwing its dark glossy hues into waves of mahogany brown. Frowning at me in disapproval, she bent down and retrieved something that had been lying amidst the long grass. She held it out for me to come and fetch, and I sighed before reaching out to take my hat from her and jam it back onto my head. She nodded, satisfied, then her eyes sparkled as she asked excitedly, "Can I give you your birthday present now?"

I raised my eyebrows in an unspoken question, but she just looked at me expectantly with those big brown eyes so I inclined my head in acquiescence and she grabbed my hand and started pulling me through the meadow back towards the town. "It's in my bedroom. We'll have to go home to get it."

We walked in companionable silence through the woods and over the bridge that led to our homes. When we reached Bella's house, she opened the side gate and we walked around to the garden where she left me under the apple tree with a promise to speedily return. I flopped down onto the soft, manicured lawn and watched her progress through the house.

My gaze followed her through the lofty windows as she ran upstairs and then I saw her flit into her bedroom on the third floor and begin rifling through a draw of her dresser. It seemed that she found what she was looking for as after a few moments she withdrew and began her descent back to me as I waited for her in the garden. The sun was finally setting behind the house when she raced out of the door, a small parcel clutched in her hand.

She flew across the lawn towards me but just as she was about to reach my tree she tripped and careened forwards. I tried to catch her but only managed to grab her sleeve so we ended up in a heap on the grass. Lifting her off me by her shoulders, I looked her over to check that she was unhurt and then sat us both up against the trunk of the apple tree.

She giggled slightly, an embarrassed sound, and grimaced at me apologetically. "Sorry about that," she murmured, "I guess I just got a little carried away."

I rolled my eyes at her and she took that to mean she was forgiven as she smiled at me and thrust the small parcel into my hand. I looked down at it curiously; it was about three inches in length and quite flat, wrapped up in brown paper and tied hurriedly together with a piece of string. I turned it over and picked the knot undone, pulling off the paper to reveal a small piece of folded linen.

I raised my gaze to Bella's and she smiled at me encouragingly so I opened the folds of fabric to reveal a stiff piece of card with small writing on the face of it. Suddenly excited, I turned it over and my jaw dropped as I stared at what I held in my hands. I couldn't believe that I was actually touching the one hundredth cigarette card from the second Great War series. I looked up at Bella, my eyes wide, begging her to tell me that it was really true. She bit her lip nervously and nodded and my jaw snapped shut as I bent to examine the card once more.

As I turned it over slowly in my hands I confirmed that it was really the card that I had been seeking for over a year, the one hundredth card that would complete my collection and slot into that last space in my presentation book that I had saved for weeks to get.

Over the last year I had become obsessed with collecting each of the cards and had spent all my money on cigarettes, although I did not smoke. Instead I tipped them into a draw in my dresser, anxiously shaking them all out until I was left with only the card in the bottom which I would either add to my growing collection or toss aside in disgruntlement.

To my great disappointment, the cards had been discontinued a month ago due to the need to conserve all valuable resources for the war effort, and I had never had the chance to complete my collection. I had spent the last five weeks asking everyone I knew if they had in their possession this last card and none of them had seen it, believing it to be fairly rare.

Without taking my eyes off the miracle in my palm I asked breathlessly, "Where did you get it?"

She laughed delicately and I tore my gaze away to see her twirling a strand of hair around her finger in a gesture I knew to be slightly nervous. Allowing my fervour to saturate my voice I hurried to reassure her. "Thank you, Bella. This is unbelievable. How on earth did you get hold of it?"

She beamed at me and dropped the piece of silky hair, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly and replied, "I asked around. I knew that somebody had to have the card and with a little persuasion I convinced them to do business with me."

"You are amazing," I vowed sincerely and she laughed, an embarrassed flush sweeping across her cheeks and lighting up her face.

"I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," I assured her. At that moment, the upstairs window swung open and a male voice called,

"Bella, can you come in here please?"

"That's my father, I guess I have to go," she sighed and stood up, brushing down her skirt, and I jumped up next to her. She leaned towards me and went up on tiptoes before softly brushing my cheek with her lips.

"Happy birthday," she whispered before turning and running into the house without a backward glance. I stood, staring after her for a short while, before heading out of the side gate and down the street to my own house.

Pushing open the front door, I called out to let my parents know that I was home, then climbed the stairs to my bedroom, throwing myself down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Still clutching the precious card in my hand, I blew out the breath I had been holding for I did not know how long, and tried not to dwell to much on the way her soft lips had felt against my cheek, her breath blowing into my ear, making me shiver.

It seemed that turning eighteen had a lot to answer for.

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**Please leave me a review :) Thank you.**


	2. The Call

**AN: Thank you to those readers who left reviews for the first chapter - they really made me smile! Huge thanks as well to Cullenista who has read beta for these all-important early chapters. She's written some amazing stories and is a great inspiration :)**

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The Call

**BPOV**

_3 weeks later_

I was practically skipping as I headed through the streets to the town square. I had agreed to meet Edward at 11 o'clock so that we could watch the parade together and I was a few minutes early so I dawdled, distracted by the bright colours of the flowers spilling from window boxes, and by the happy shouts of children as they played by the road on this unusually sunny day in Forks.

As I turned onto the main street, I caught my breath at the sight of the swarms of people that lined the road, the atmosphere pulsing with excitement as everyone waited for the arrival of the regiments who would soon be leaving to fight in northern France, to join the British and French troops after we had declared war with Germany a few months earlier. I was by staggered the level of anticipation in the air as the crowd awaited the start of the parade and couldn't help but be caught up in the mood.

Before I realised what was happening, two large hands closed over my eyes and somebody breathed in my ear as they whispered, "Guess who?"

I shuddered as their stale breath hit my cheek and I tried to squirm free but they held me still. "Come on Bella, you're not trying very hard," they grumbled, pulling me closer to their body, the large hands still obscuring my vision.

Suddenly I felt the person being wrenched away and I spun to see a furious Edward glaring at a cowering boy who was several inches shorter than him. "What do you think you are doing?" Edward hissed at him and he shrank back, glancing at me pleadingly. Edward raised his eyebrows impatiently and continued, "I'm waiting, Newton."

The boy, Michael, hastily tried to explain himself but only received murderous stares from Edward, demanding an apology. He nervously pulled at the hem of his shirt ran his hand through his blonde, overly styled hair like a rebuked small child until Edward finally released him, turning away in disgust. Michael slunk away, calling pitifully back, "Bye Bella, sorry."

"Goodbye Michael," I muttered and turned to see Edward gazing at me, inspecting me for damage. I raised my eyebrows challengingly at him and reprovingly said, "You didn't have to be that rough with him. You scared him half to death."

Edward's expression shifted from concerned to confused and slightly hurt. "He grabbed hold of you! Was I supposed to watch him manhandle you like that?"

"You just needn't have been so vicious about it," I muttered, but I could tell that he heard as his mouth tightened into a thin line of annoyance. We glared at each other for a few minutes and even though I was vexed I could not help but marvel at the way his bronze hair caught the sunlight and reflected back a thousand different colours, shimmering with gold and brass undertones as he stood, bathed in a summer glow. His green eyes bore into mine until I could take it no more and looked away, dropping my gaze to stare at the scuffed brown leather of my shoes.

He sighed and murmured, "I'm sorry, Bella. Maybe I overreacted a little."

I looked up to see him gazing at me softly and repentantly, although it seemed more like he was humouring me than that he really saw my point. I nodded and turned to lead the way so that we could take our place in the parade, and I heard him mutter as he followed me, "Too nice for her own good."

Deciding to ignore that last comment, I weaselled my way to the front of the crowd so that I wouldn't have to peer over everybody's heads and Edward came up beside me. The crowd was so closely packed that I was pressed up against the fabric of his shirt and could see every detail, noticing that he wore it with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow in an attempt to escape the unusual heat.

At that moment, a trumpet sounded and there was a perceptible shift in the atmosphere of the assembled people as the level of excitement soared. I glanced over at Edward and we couldn't help but grin at each other as we were swept along with the mood.

The sound of marching grew nearer and we craned our heads to be the first to see the approaching soldiers with their shiny buttons and smart uniforms. They grew nearer and we could make out an escort of young women walking next to them holding baskets of flowers and handing them out as they passed by. They attracted the eye of every man in the square and I noticed that Edward was no exception. I scowled as I saw this; for some reason it upset me, although I couldn't fathom why.

The sound of a brass band accompanied the march and I could soon make out the cheerful smiles of the soldiers and the proud way they held their heads as they paraded past. A young woman handed Edward a flower and he looked at it, entranced by the glory of the soldiers and the tangible mood of the crowd. He glanced at me, his face lit up and I smiled back, caught up in the joy and excitement despite myself.

As the parade reached the centre of the square, the group halted and the commanding officer began to shout out to the crowd. He announced that they would be setting up a table and that any man between the ages of eighteen and forty who wished to join up should come forward to put their name on the register. Immediately, a swarm of young men dashed forwards, eager to become one of the glorious group, and formed a cluster around the man sitting behind the table holding the sign-up book. The crowd applauded as each man stepped forward and proudly signed his name before returning to his friends and family who slapped him on the back or kissed his cheek affectionately.

I felt Edward squeeze my hand and I whipped my head around in time to see him release me and run off to join the growing crowd. As he approached the desk and signed his name, I saw a buoyant smile spread across his face and he clutched the flower all the more tightly in his fist. Everyone in the square could not help but smile along with the men as we watched them enlist to fight in the Great War, proud of our boys who would protect us from the enemy.

In due course, Edward returned to my side and we watched the queue gradually die down as each man signed his name, and before long the crowd began to slowly disperse. As we wandered slowly back towards our homes, Edward and I talked endlessly of the war and of the glory and the adventure that he would soon be embarking on. I don't think that either of us stopped to consider quite what it would mean for us, how it would affect each of our lives, but that scarcely seemed to matter.

He was filled with excitement, and I with pride, as we contemplated the prospects and imagined the dangers and enemies he would encounter, and I made him promise that, when he returned, he would share all his stories with me. He did so willingly and stopped suddenly in the middle of the street, pulling me to a halt beside him.

Taking both my hands he gazed seriously into my eyes, joy dancing in his own, and said, "I will make you proud of me, Bella. I will be a great soldier and you will be proud."

"I am proud of you, Edward," I replied, infected by his irresistible optimism and enthusiasm. "I am always proud of you."

He pulled me into a tight hug and whispered in my ear, "But soon you will be prouder." Then he released me and we continued walking, side by side, until we reached his house where he stopped and, with a quick wave to me, walked inside.

As I continued the few streets to my own house, I pondered what had passed between us. It was true, I was proud of him, but my heart swelled at the thought of him fighting to protect the freedom of countries across the sea, and I thought with joy of how he would return, battle weary and hardened, but decked with honours for his bravery and courage.

As I entered my own home, my father called to me from the front room and I skipped in to see him. He immediately caught on to my good humour and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his question feeling more like an interrogation than a polite inquiry.

"Edward and I went to see the parade," I answered him, and he relaxed slightly, although he still looked wary.

"What has you so worked up?"

Refusing to let his bad temper spoil my own mood, I just laughed and walked to the door. "I'll be in my room, if you need me," I replied lightly, and left him watching me, his suspicious demeanour intensifying when I dodged his question.

Laughing quietly to myself, I ran up the stairs and collapsed in my chintz armchair, grabbing a book from the shelf to occupy my mind. However, it could not be quieted and I kept replaying the morning with all the excitement, the trumpets and the glee and anticipation. I smiled and tried to lose myself in Austen, but my mind kept drifting back to the prospect of the Great War and the pride of my Edward fighting as a soldier.


	3. The Conscript

**AN: I hope you like this chapter! Thanks again to Cullenista, whose insight into this chapter is greatly appreciated, and to those who reviewed or PM-ed me :)**

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The Conscript

**BPOV**

Within a week, Edward's application had been processed and his paperwork had been accepted, making him an official recruit of the land army. I confessed myself a little shocked at the speed of the proceedings, but he assured me that it was better this way as he was eager to be off to the front and that waiting was doing nobody any good. By the ten-day mark after his joining up, he was packed and ready to leave for Northern France where he would be joining the other American troops already stationed there.

It seemed that the whole town had assembled on the platform of the small Forks railway station, everybody keen to see off our men who were travelling to foreign lands to fight the aggressor. My father and I gathered there with everyone else and I searched the packed platform for Edward, desperate to see him again before he boarded the train for goodness knew how long. Eventually, I caught sight of his bronze hair, a few inches above the heads of the rest of the crowd, and pulled my father towards him, pushing through the packed bodies that left little room for movement.

As we approached, I got the chance to look him over for the first time in his new uniform; I could not deny that it suited him well and that he looked dashing in his smartly polished boots and with the regulation cap perched jauntily on his bronze head. I swelled with pride seeing him looking like a real soldier, ready to fight for his country and an unconscious smile crept to my face.

He saw us approach and went to meet us, leading us towards where his family stood, his mother clutching onto his father's arm for support and his younger sister, Alice, whom I knew a little from our families' extended acquaintance, clinging onto his arm the second he returned.

She began sobbing loudly, tears streaking her face, and buried her face in his chest while his arms enclosed around her. "I'll miss you, Edward," she wailed, and he patted her head soothingly whilst glancing around him to see if anybody else had noticed, embarrassed by the scene she was creating. After a few minutes of almost hysterical sobs, he prised her free and handed her off to his mother so they could lament his parting together, clutching tightly to one another.

Edward's father, Mr Masen, took that opportunity to have a few words with his son before the train departed, and though I couldn't hear what they were saying, I saw Edward nod his head earnestly and his father clap him on the shoulder.

At that moment, there was a call for all passengers to board the train for imminent departure, and Mrs Masen and Alice clung to him, sobbing and he returned their hugs slightly uncomfortably before detaching himself and heading turning to where we stood. My father reached out seriously to shake his hand, saying, "Good luck, my boy. Show them what you're made of."

"Thank you, Mr Swan. I'll do my best, I can promise you that."

My father nodded and paced over to exchange a few words with Mr Masen as the last soldiers joined the train. In a swift motion, Edward bent down and caught me up in a tight hug, squeezing all the breath out of me before releasing me just as quickly. For some reason, I felt slightly off balance and shook my head minutely to clear it.

He lowered his head until he was on a level with me, looking right into my eyes. "Will you write to me?" he whispered quietly, his voice ringing with sincerity and his expression nervous as if he were doubting my reply.

"Of course," I assured him and he beamed at me just as the whistle shrieked through the station. He backed away from me, our eyes never losing contact, then turned and ran off to jump onto the train. I felt bereft, watching him walk away and bit my lip, blinking rapidly to dispel the moisture that had suddenly gathered under my eyelids. I would not cry, would not ruin this moment for him with my tears.

The train door swung closed just before it pulled out of the station, smoke billowing from the funnel and wrapping around us as we watched from the platform. The men all hung out of the windows, waving wildly, and the station was filled with cries of, "Goodbye!" and "See you soon!"

Mothers waved proudly and smiled through their tears while I scoured the ranks for Edward, my eyes finally locking on his face as he leaned dangerously out of the train and waved, a wide grin stretching across his face. I waved back, forcing a smile for the friend that was almost an extension of myself. I kept my eyes on him until the train rounded a bend and I could see him no more, my hand still raised in a half-hearted wave as I watched him go.

**EPOV**

I waved until I could no longer make out the small station, nestled amidst the trees surrounding my hometown, and the last thing I saw before we rounded a bend was Bella's face, smiling at me as she watched us leave. I felt a pang as I lost sight of her and my next breath caught on a lump in my throat as my home was swept away from me, but I dug my nails into my palm to keep myself composed.

Turning resolutely away from Forks, vanished into the forest behind us, I carefully pulled myself back into the train and picked my way through the sea of men crowding the carriage to find somewhere to sit down. I was lucky; there was a seat free by a smeary window and I pushed through the bodies to reach it, collapsing back and closing my eyes. I suddenly realised that I was exhausted and unusually emotionally drained, and so I let my head loll back against the seat and my thoughts drift back to Forks which, although the train was flying away from, I could not yet leave behind.

The train chugged steadily on through the countryside and my eyelids grew heavy and slipped closed, the constant background noise of the throbbing engine and the muted voices drowning out my thoughts as I floated farther and farther away into sleep.

Before I knew it, someone shook my shoulder and I opened my eyes to see Tyler Crowley grinning at me. "We're here," he announced cheerily and I looked around to see that the train had pulled into a station and the low-level chatter had turned into purposeful bustle as packs were collected and men moved towards the doors to the platform.

Outside, we were shepherded towards the boot camp where we would undergo our training and before I could really process it, I was submerged in the life of a recruit.

The next few weeks sailed past in a dream. I was halfway through my basic training before I had time to process the fact that we were being trained up to fight in an actual war, and that this was no longer a schoolyard exercise.

The first real shock for me came when, the morning after our arrival, we were lined up in the courtyard outside our barracks and ordered to cut our hair. Feeling it being stripped away from my head left me feeling exposed and bare, vulnerable as if my hair was the last link I had with my home. The reddish-gold clumps that fell as the barber worked seemed to represent my childhood falling away from me, lying discarded at my feet. I suddenly realised that there was no going back, no remaining the boy I had been. I had to be a soldier now and I was unsettled that this hadn't occurred to me before.

However, as new recruits, we were filled with an unsuppressible optimism and enthusiasm that no amount of hair cutting, marching round a courtyard or crawling through muddy obstacle courses could dampen.

We learnt how to handle rifles and the correct use of a bayonet, how to charge and how to defeat the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. Each night we fell into our bunks exhausted and weary to the bone but we still managed to enjoy ourselves, reminding each other that soon we would be facing real enemies, a thought that still had me trembling with excitement.

During the months I spent training on the East coast I received several letters from my parents and Bella, but none of them contained much more than accounts of various occurrences back home. I filed each one away, however, and looked at them sometimes in the evenings to remind me of the people I had left behind. It had only been a matter of weeks, but already I felt a million miles away from them.

After a couple of months training by the coast, we boarded a ship that would take us to France and to where the real fighting was going on. We spent the days playing cards and gambling, telling stories about our homes and families, and speculating about what we were heading towards.

During my training I had been irked to find that Michael Newton would be in the same regiment with me, and although I had avoided contact with him as far as possible up to this point, it became impossible to remain distant when we were all trapped on the ship. Consequently, I spent far too much time in his presence, and it seemed almost that he attached himself to me, hardly leaving my side for the duration of the voyage. I harboured a distinct dislike for the vile child but tried my best to ignore him and focus on reaching the front, and on the letters home that I composed in my free time.

To my chagrin, I found these more difficult to write than I had imagined. Forks, my parents, my home felt so distant that I seemed to no longer know how to address them, how to translate my life as a recruit into a language they could understand.

My letters to Bella were even more challenging; I struggled to find things to say to her and, to my utter dismay, almost felt awkward at our stilted correspondence. As a result, my letters were shorter and less frequent than I would have liked, and she seemed to be suffering from the same difficulty as she had only sent me one letter in the months since I had been away. Nevertheless, I cherished it as a great source of comfort and entertainment to me and I felt that it connected me to the person I had been better than anything else.

Following a voyage that seemed to last for years, we disembarked and took another train, reaching our base towards the end of September. We remained in the camp for a further week before finally being moved to the front line for the beginning of October. Over the months since I had joined up, I thought I had been prepared for everything. I was trained, drilled and shouted at until my feet were swollen and I wanted to crawl into bed and never get up. I had stabbed, crawled, shot, dug and ran for miles, but nothing could have prepared me for what lay ahead of me in the trenches.


	4. The First Grey Awakening

**AN: I'm glad you seem to be reading and liking this story. Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter – it's my favourite so far and it's not bad, if I do say so myself :) **

The First Grey Awakening

**BPOV**

I impatiently set aside my book and leapt up from the settee, smoothing my skirt and laying the book down on the coffee table. Unable to keep still, I paced up and down the living room, gazing through the window to take in the characteristically wet weather outside, the rain hammering against the windowpanes and ricocheting off the sill onto the garden path.

Edward had been gone now for over two months and I knew from his occasional letter that he was drawing near to the end of his basic training. Any day now he would be setting off to fight on the front line, and although this thought was terrifying, part of me couldn't help but wish that I were there with him.

I was growing so bored of my life here, stuck in my duties as a daughter and young woman and unable to break free and explore whom I had the potential to be. I, too, longed for adventure and felt cooped up in this small town, like a bird with its wings clipped, kept from knowing what it would feel like to soar through the air.

Catching myself getting carried away, I stopped pacing and smiled ruefully; it was unlike me to become so melodramatic and just proved my suspicion that I needed a change of scene.

Slipping on my coat and hat as some defence against the elements and calling to my father that I was going for a walk, I set off down the wide residential street, barely aware of my feet carrying me along. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I failed to see the rogue tree root in front of me, and only managed to catch myself just before I hit the ground.

Muttering darkly to myself about clumsiness and roots jumping out at me, I started picking myself up and turned to see a small person standing behind me. Her face was concerned as she squinted at me through the heavy rain and held out her hand to help me, asking, "Are you alright, Bella?"

Realising that it was Alice, Edward's sister, I shook myself and accepted her proffered help, brushing down my coat that has now covered in wet leaves that had fallen from the trees before the constant rain turned them into a soggy mush.

"I'm fine, Alice, but thank you for your concern," I replied, smiling bashfully at her from under the brim of my hat. Although I had known Alice for several years, we had never been very close, and the two-year age gap between us did not help matters.

We began walking along together in companionable silence until she asked me, "Have you heard anything from Edward recently?"

I shook my head; the last letter I had received from him had been more than a fortnight ago when he had written to wish me a happy birthday. It had seemed a little distant and detached but not devoid of sincerity and I had been genuinely touched that he had remembered even from all those miles away. It still filled me with a warm glow to think about the folded letter in my dresser where I had stored it for safekeeping, rereading it often so that the folds in the paper weakened and collapsed.

"Me neither," she sighed, obviously disappointed, and I made a mental note to request that Edward send a letter just for Alice when he next wrote. "I wonder what he's doing right now?"

"Probably marching," I answered her; "they've quite a way to travel to get to the front line."

Alice's eyes lit up as she considered the possibilities.

"I think he's fighting," she declared and my heart leapt into my mouth with the idea. "I think he's winning the battle single-handedly so the war can end and all the soldiers can come home."

I smiled sadly at her prognosis and bit my lip; although I would never admit it to her, I had been missing Edward more than I would care to say. He had been a constant presence in my life up to this point, ever since we had played together as children while our mothers watched from his porch, and I felt bereft that he was so far away, in some place where I could not follow.

Alice turned to me suddenly, her lip quivering and her wide blue eyes filling with moisture. "I wish he would come home, Bella."

"So do I," I assured her, folding her in my arms to offer the only comfort I could give. I wished I could tell her that we would see him soon but I realised that it could be months until he was granted leave and I could not promise her something only to have her hopes dashed.

"Just think of when the war is over, Alice," I reminded her. "He'll be a hero."

She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and then threw me a watery smile.

We walked on, battling against the teeming raindrops for a few minutes longer before she excused herself, saying that she had to get home, and we parted. I wandered slowly back towards my house, now barely noticing the torrent that fell around me and glanced off my hat and now soaked coat.

Letting myself in, I changed into dry clothes and sat down at the table with a fresh sheet of paper in front of me, and a pen in my hand. I chewed on the end nervously, then started to write, quickly filling the page with my cramped, slightly uneven script.

**EPOV**

My head bowed under the steady onslaught of drizzle that never seemed to cease its cascade from the billowing clouds above the trenches. There were times, after a session of heavy shelling, when the sky was obscured from us completely by columns of thick smoke, choking and scorching the lungs with its pungent fetor.

As I swallowed, I could almost taste the coating of ash that had settled in my mouth during the last bombing of our line of trenches, just before the Germans attacked. They charged towards us, a tidal wave of grey, mud-splattered uniforms that made every man look alike, and yet unavoidably separated them from us. The deafening noise of scores of machine guns ripped a hole in the silence of the dawn and we each took up our places, fixing our bayonets onto the barrels of our rifles in preparation. I prayed that no-one would get close enough for me to use it.

There was a rending sound as a man's head was blown from his body and I swallowed, nauseous even at the memory, forcing down the waves of panic that threatened to overtake me if I lingered too long on that recollection. The swarms of Germans kept coming, and we kept shooting them down, each falling where their comrades had fallen before them, brothers in death as well as in arms.

I now sat at the edge of the trench pertaining to no-man's land, keeping watch for my shift that would last most of the night. For the most part, we played a waiting game. At any moment, we could be besieged with shells or overrun by the Hun and none of us knew when that would be. It drove some men mad, the not knowing, but I had soon found that the best way to remain sane was to give in to the numbness.

To avoid thinking about the horror and destruction allowed my mind respite; that, and remembering my other life, the one I had lived before I had come here. I spent the nights remembering my family: my mother, in all her gentle kindness; my father's gruff handshake before the train left; my sister Alice's willing smile and happy temperament.

My thoughts turned to Bella a lot, too, and I missed her more than I would be prepared to admit. She had always been the one who made sense of things for me, and now I needed her practicality and understanding more than ever. Alone, I thought too much, and in the trenches there was nothing to do but think. I needed her to draw me out of my introspection and to make me feel like myself again.

Thinking of Bella reminded me of the prize that I cradled in my pocket, the letters that I had received from home earlier that day. I had stashed them away to save for this night, knowing that I could enjoy them in peace, and I carefully opened the envelope, savouring the feel of the paper on my fingers and the gentle fragrance of home that it brought.

The first letter was from my mother, prattling about a lunch she had hosted for her friends, and included with that was a quick note from Alice telling me about school and a party she was going to the next week. I was slightly disappointed that there was no word from my father, but this was assuaged instantly by the next letter which, I knew from the handwriting, was from Bella.

Her letters, without fail, diverted me in a way that no others did. Perhaps it was the fact that I knew that, were I back home, I would slot right into the things she did and recounted to me. She made me hope that I was still the same Edward she had known, or at least that I could be.

As I unfurled the paper, her scent wafted gently up and made me stop dead, instantly transported back to the meadow, or the garden, or any place where we had spent time together. For me, that fragrance meant home, and I realised that I could not find home without it. Inhaling deeply and savouring every breath, I began to read what she had written.

_28__th__ September 1917_

_Dear Edward,_

_I write to sincerely thank you for the much-appreciated birthday wishes you sent me by your last letter. It greatly moved me to be shown that your thoughts turned to me even when you are so far away and there is such a gap between us. _

_I realise that I may never be truly able to understand your experiences and adventures, but I hope that you will teach me what you can and that I may, in some small way, share in this war with you. Either way, I am much obliged that you did not forget my eighteenth birthday, even while you are away fighting a war._

_If you doubted it once you cannot doubt it now – we are all immensely proud of you and your mother boasts of her boy, the soldier, to everyone she meets. Alice, too, misses you a lot. We have spent time together and it is clear that she is filled with admiration for her brave big brother. Who could help but to admire what you are doing?_

_For my part, my days have become much lonelier now that you are no longer in them. I know that we are all but grown up and would have parted ways soon enough anyway, but I cannot pretend that I do not miss having you around. _

_I am continuing with my studies, laboriously working at my French and history, as I gave up on mathematics weeks ago. It became impossible for me to master without you to help me, and I received little encouragement to continue from my father. He does not find it necessary for a young lady to have grasp on education; I try to tell him that times are changing, but he is set in his ways. _

_I am not ashamed to tell you, Edward, that I am worried about him. He becomes increasingly like an old man every day, although he is barely fifty years old, and I fear for his health if this continues. I hardly know how to take care of him – he seems so fragile and I am afraid that I am not making a comfortable home for him. I know he feels the loss of my mother, although she has been gone these six years, even stronger than I do and it seems that his health and well being are declining, as if he cannot bear many more years without respite from his grief. I pray he does not plan to join her soon or I shall be totally alone and the thought terrifies me. _

_Forgive me, I have no right to burden you with my worries but I needed to rely on a friendly ear and you have always been that for me, Edward. I hope that, even though many miles separate us, you will look to me for that same purpose and I will try not to let you down, although I am sure your troubles are far greater than mine._

_Although I feel my pen could run on for many more pages, I must draw to a close now and remind you that our thoughts and prayers are with you, as ever._

_Yours,_

_Bella_

I closed up the letter and slipped it back into my pocket before mashing my head into my hands. Concentrating on taking deep breaths, I calmed my burst of emotion that consisted of loneliness and, to my surprise and chagrin, anger. What was she thinking, asking me to share my 'adventures' with her? Did she not realise the agony I experienced even imagining her knowing about what went on in these rat-infested ditches?

She could never know, I vowed, and God knows I could never tell her. I could never pollute her in that way, never claim that innocence that shone through the letter and touched me, even when I thought that I was losing my sanity. Just reading her heart-felt words made me miss her with a fearsome ache and I wished that I could be there to reassure her in her worries.

I knew, though she never spoke of it, that losing her mother when she was only twelve affected her deeply and that she had never fully recovered and would always carry that grief with her. It was hard knowing that your best friend was somehow incomplete, but it almost seemed that I completed her, filling in that missing piece so that together we made a whole person. That was what came, I supposed, of growing up with someone so that they were almost like an extension of your body, a limb that you cannot imagine functioning without. This was why, it seemed, I was having such a hard time adjusting to life without her with me.

The loneliness reared up again and I squashed it back, tearing my thoughts away from the person who made my heart ache and yet also made it feel whole. I stared out over no-man's land, scanning the horizon for any approach or sign that an attack was imminent, but there was none. Perhaps tonight was not the night, but soon it would happen and when it did we would have to be ready.

We could take no prisoners.

**AN: I'd like to thank Cullenista, once again, for her help with this chapter, especially the title. It is inspired by a war poem by Alun Lewis called "All Day It Has Rained" (it was tipping down when I wrote this chapter) – check it out if you like powerful poetry. Incidentally, all the chapter titles so far have been names of war poems, a little theme I have going here. **

**RosieWilde x**


	5. For the Fallen

**Glad you guys liked the last chapter. This one is a bit different but I've got my finger's crossed you'll approve! Let me know what you think, please :)**

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For the Fallen

**BPOV**

The next month or so seemed to drag by for me, each day melding into the next with very little to break the monotony. News from the front line was sparse and hard to come by, and even that which we did hear told us little about the true state of the war or what it was like for the soldiers fighting it.

I clung to my vague confidence that we were winning, that we would be the victors and that all our men would be heroes, refusing to consider the prospect that there might be an alternative. For me, it was certain that our soldiers would come home, that _Edward_ would come home; it was just a question of _when_.

Despite my confidence, however, I found myself everyday scanning the newspaper for any news of the war or sign that it might be ending. The lists of casualties especially drew my attention and my eye would traverse the faceless names in my daily ritual, my heart in my mouth, before I threw the paper aside, thanking God that I was not reading _his_ name and yet hoping, perversely for some sign of him to show me that he was still alive, that he still existed in some way or another.

The longer the war went on, the longer he had been away, the more my anxiety grew. It escalated until I caught myself thinking about him in every spare moment and whenever my mind was not occupied it invariably drifted back to him. His face haunted me in my waking hours and stalked my dreams making it impossible for me to live and function like a normal person. Each hour felt like a week and each week seemed to last a lifetime.

It seemed incredible to me that life should go on while this war was being fought for us, so far from home. Occasionally, in a dark mood, I would fitfully wonder what we were really fighting for, if we were truly being threatened, but then the mood would pass and I would banish the thought from my head.

It startled me, I confess, just how much Edward's being gone impacted on my general outlook. My concentration would shatter at the slightest disturbance and I found it practically impossible to sit still or commit to any task. My father frequently found himself repeating lines in a very one sided conversation and sighed at my inattentiveness, but knew better than to question me on it. He could see that I was past his reach and knew that I would come back to him eventually, as my mother had always done before me.

As a result of my distance and abstractedness, the month of November seemed to pass in a dream and before I knew it, I was embroiled in plans and preparations for Christmas. Mrs Masen, in a fit of patriotism and mother-hen syndrome, had cajoled me into joining her in the war effort and so I spent many afternoons in the Masens' living room, knitting socks and chatting with herself and Alice.

We had soon gone through several shops full of wool, produced enough socks to shod every soldier in the trenches and covered every topic of conversation from the price of stamps to the policies of Lloyd George, the British Prime Minister.

I was surprised and pleased to discover that Mrs Masen was herself reasonably informed about current affairs and was perfectly capable of holding an intelligent conversation, something I had never seen her do before, although she was apt to be distracted by neighbourly gossip or talk of organza and ribbons.

Alice showed practically no interest in politics or specifics of the war and much preferred to discuss the new schoolmaster and all his charms. Although she had left school at the end of October, she still found excuses to run down there on an errand or to ask his opinion on some matter or another. Invariably she returned in giggles and her mother would rebuke her for flirting with a man half her age again, but these stern warnings fell on deaf ears. She could talk about him for hours, Mr Whitlock, the most distinguished, intelligent, handsome man she had ever met, and no amount of hinting on my part could persuade her to end the subject and take up on another.

She was besotted with him and one day ran to me as I strolled through the garden, her eyes wide and whispered to me in utter awe and amazement, "His name is Jasper!"

When I asked her how she found that out she only shook her head and continued to mouth, "Jasper, his name's Jasper," to herself in complete wonder.

Fearing that she could only end up with her heart broken I entreated her to forget him, but she would not hear of it. When I brought up the subject, she would refuse to speak to me of it until, unable to stand her hurt and disappointment at me, I begged her forgiveness and from then on kept my misgivings to myself.

Thereafter, whenever she would tell me of a conversation or exchange she would have with her Mr Whitlock, I would merely purse my lips and hold my tongue. I had no reason to suspect that this was anything but a childish fancy that would soon pass so I saw no reason to distress her or her mother further by voicing my concerns.

It was during one of our knitting sessions that we received our first real shock. Mrs Masen and I were both laughing at a joke that Alice had unwittingly cracked when there was a hasty knock at the front door and I, being seated closest, leapt up to answer it. Before me stood a neighbour of the Masens, Mrs Stanley, and before I could find my voice to issue an invitation, she flew in past me and parked herself on the settee at Mrs Masen's side.

"Did you hear?" she gasped, trying to catch her breath from her whirlwind trip across the street.

"Hear?" Mrs Masen asked, bemused. "Hear what?"

"It's the Newtons," she replied darkly, leaning forward and inviting the rest of us to put our heads together conspiratorially.

"Their son, Michael. He's been killed in France."

It was a moment after the words crossed her lips before we processed the information enough to react. Mrs Masen gasped, her hand flying to her throat and Alice's eyes grew wide as saucers. It seemed that I stopped breathing for a few minutes until I started to feel lightheaded and sucked a breath through my parched lips.

"Killed?" I croaked, seeking confirmation for what I knew was almost certainly true.

"Yes," she confirmed, nodding her head earnestly. "They just received the telegram an hour ago. Mrs Thomas next door heard the commotion and inquired what was going on; she told me next and I came here to let you know directly."

For a long moment none of us stirred, then Mrs Masen began speaking very quickly, her voice breathy and higher pitched than normal.

"My goodness, that poor family. I simply cannot believe it – no I dare not believe it. Are you quite sure that is the case? Killed in France, that dear, sweet boy. He was only a child; it cannot be so. You must be mistaken, that simply cannot be the case."

"I assure you that it is, Mrs Masen, dear. I heard it straight from Mrs Crowley who lives next door to the Newtons themselves."

"So young," Mrs Masen whispered to herself, suddenly quite pale, and I rose and stood next to her, taking her hand and squeezing it in a comforting gesture.

Her eyes flickered to mine and she smiled weakly in gratitude, before turning to her visitor and firmly saying, "We must think of the family. They have just lost their only son and the last thing they need to hear is gossip about their grief all through the town. We must try to be understanding," she told us, "although I fear that one day I might understand too much," she continued under her breath, as if to herself.

At her words, my stomach turned over and I froze where I stood, refusing to acknowledge the possibility she had suggested. The shock of Michael's death had brought home to me the reality of this war we were engaged in, and although I understood, in an academic sense, the concepts of fighting and losses, it was entirely different to be given a face to put to one of the names on the lists of dead.

Although everyday I feared what I would find when I scanned the newspaper, I knew that up to this point I had never entertained the very real prospect that my fears might be realised. Now that this had come home to me, it seemed my heart almost stopped beating in my chest. I suddenly felt as if I had been filled with ice cold water and that it was slowly spreading through every nerve and vessel in my body, crippling my senses and paralysing my every response but fear.

Fighting to regain control over my body, I gulped and found my voice for the first time since Mrs Stanley had confirmed our trepidation. "Mrs Stanley," I began, a quick glance towards Mrs Masen verifying that it was the right thing to do, "perhaps you would do us the favour of informing my father of the terrible news? I do not feel that I can yet leave Mrs Masen and Alice's company to tell him myself."

Immediately she sat up straighter at the prospect of spreading her horrific gossip further, and nodded her head in consent. "Of course, Isabella. Sometimes it is our duty to convey messages that we wish we need not, but it is a task that must be done nonetheless. I will hasten to tell him straight away. Goodbye Mrs Masen, Alice, Isabella, and thank you for your hospitality. No need to show me out."

With that, she leapt to her feet and marched from the house, and I could see her scurrying along the street towards my home, stopping to talk to Mr Rogers, the mailman, no doubt filling him in on the misfortune of her friends. I watched her for a moment then turned away from the window, shuddering slightly.

By this time, Mrs Masen had gone back to her knitting, frowning deeply, and Alice was chewing on her nails in a state of considerable agitation. I returned to my seat and we worked on together, none of us really having any words to speak to express the thoughts running through our brains, or the emotions bombarding our senses at Mrs Stanley's news.


	6. Into Battle

**AN: This chapter was amazing to write so I hope you enjoy it. Go forth and read! (and review) :)**

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Into Battle

**EPOV**

_8 days later_

The cold bit at my fingers and the bitter wind chafed my raw cheeks, ruddying my normally pale complexion and nipping at any exposed skin with a ruthless persistence. Puffing loudly, I rubbed my excoriated hands together and held them inside my jacket, numbly watching my breath form clouds in the frigid morning air.

The scent of anticipation was sharp as we stepped into formation, forming solid lines of men that would stretch for miles down the trenches in each direction. The silence of the morning was unbroken and for the first time I realised that I was really listening to it. It rested heavy all around us and seemed to seep right into me, filling me with an empty feeling that seemed to be coming from outside instead of within. I realised, for the first time, why this was so unnatural, why the trenches seemed so wholly terrifying. It was a dead sound, a hollowness that rang with the absence of life, even lacking birds circling in the sky above. My heart dropped like a lead weight when I noted this. Even the birds had abandoned us.

A few more prolonged moments of silence, then I began to hear again. There was a faint scuffling of boots as men shuffled nervously as they waited; a muffled swish as one pack brushed against another. I glanced down the line of my fellow soldiers, my friends, searching for some kind of reassurance, some smile or a joke to make me feel that we might come through this. No-one would meet my eye; everyone was staring as his boots, or his hands, or his gun. No-one would look at the sky.

Lifting my eyes to gaze out of the trench I saw pillars of thick smoke coiling up from where I knew the enemy trenches to be, residuals of the shells we had been dropping on them for the past sixty-four hours. In between preparations for the offensive, we had listened to the shrieks and explosions of the shells which seemed all too close to our own trenches.

"Better them than us!" someone had joked, loudly to break the tension, and a few people had laughed.

"Wonder if you'll feel that way tomorrow," someone else muttered and the laughs cut off. Everyone knew what 'tomorrow' meant and we'd already received our orders. We were to attack at dawn and take as much of the German front line as possible. The first over there were to stay and set up in their trenches; the only question was how many of us would live to do that.

Along the line of the trench there echoed a shout of, "Fix bayonets!" As one, the soldiers moved to follow orders and there was a series of clicks and snaps as the guns were prepared and held ready. I faintly heard the crunch of the commanding officer's boots as he paced behind the men, waiting for the moment when he would order them to charge.

At another signal from the Captain we all crowded closer to the ladders and looked at each other without a word. The abject terror was written clearly across several faces and one young boy, whose name I knew to be Tom, looked like he was about to cry. I nodded at him, my grim expression impossible to mould into a smile, and he lifted his chin determinedly in response.

At that moment, the commanders bellowed at us and we heard the command that we had been waiting for. With a huge shout, the men all scaled the ladders and spilled over the top, myself among them, carried along by the wave of momentum the ranks brought. As one we charged towards the enemy trenches, no more than four hundred yards away but separated from us by a wide expanse of mud-filled craters formed by repeated shelling.

Immediately, the torrent of bullets began and I could hear the scream of machine guns as they spattered them along our whole line. Men were already falling along the front, victims of the German guns or of a flying piece of shrapnel from the explosions all around us. The soldier right in front of me was mowed down and I stepped over him, not even noticing who he was. He couldn't help me now.

The ankle-deep mud stirred up by bullets and ploughing boots was heavy and slowed us down but we kept running, tearing our feet free of the suction and pushing forwards towards the Hun. The air was thick with bullets and the screams of dying men as they were hit, and all around my feet were fallen comrades and abandoned packs and helmets. I could barely see to put one foot in front of the other and it was impossible to make out the screaming bullets and shells to evade them. I could only pray constantly, as I ran, that they would miss me, that I would come out of this unhurt.

Exhausted, I looked up to see that we had almost made it across no-man's land and that the barbed wire that guarded the German trenches was looming before us. With dismay I noticed that our bombs had hardly destroyed through the wire at all and that it was as impenetrable and menacing as ever. We would be sitting ducks if we stopped to cut through it and would be picked off by the Germans in a minute.

As the first wave of our attack reached the wire they were mown down by the machine gunners. Bullets were still spraying all around us and a man crumpled next to me, falling face first into the mud. A moment later, a searing pain shot through my left leg and it collapsed under me, making me fold helplessly to the ground. I noticed that more and more of our troops were dead or dying and that nobody had yet managed to find a way through the barbed wire fence.

Men continued to charge past me as I was crumpled in the mud and a group ran by containing several from my regiment who noticed me on the ground. A soldier named Emmett who I had become friendly with in the months in the dugout approached, but the impact of an almighty explosion not far away from us threw my already limp body further away. I clawed my way out from under the six inches of mud that the shell had deposited on top of me and marvelled, briefly, that I had escaped that particular blast uninjured. I looked frantically around for Emmett who had been almost beside me, and seeing his helmet buried in the mud I tore at the mud and dug him out to find, to my great relief, that he was also unharmed.

Together we crouched in the middle of no-man's land, shells screeching all around us and lethal pieces of shrapnel falling like shooting stars from the explosions. Suddenly I heard a shout over the noise of the guns and turned to see some others from our trench waving us over to a hole created by a shell. Emmett and I crawled over and we joined the men already concealed within the makeshift dugout, waiting for the bombing to subside.

They pulled us in and we began inspecting our wounds, cataloguing them for future treatment. I discovered that I had taken a bullet to my left thigh and that I was losing blood so I tore the sleeve off my shirt as a compress to stop the bleeding. By the dim light from outside I could see that the wound was quite deep and the flesh seemed burnt by the bullet as it had entered. I couldn't remove it without further mangling my thigh and so I just bandaged it up and hoped it would be seen to later.

There was nothing for it now but to wait for night to fall so that we could retreat to our trenches under cover of darkness. The bombing did not continue for much longer and we acknowledged the fact but spoke nothing further of it. Nobody voiced it but I knew they were all thinking the same thing that I was; was it because there was nobody left to bomb?

The hours passed by slowly in our tiny sanctum and we spent most of them talking to one another. We had soon exhausted any talk of the war as none of us wanted to discuss much of what we had seen, so talk turned our families and our lives back home. We told stories of things that had happened to us and of what we used to get up to and before we knew it we were laughing at shared recollections and scrapes.

Emmett whipped a small photograph out of his pack and waved it proudly in his hand, passing it round for us all to see. "That's my girl, Rose," he boasted to us, snatching the picture back and tucking it safely in jacket pocket.

He was rewarded with approving nods and whistles.

"She is something."

"She's a looker, alright."

"She's the prettiest girl in the world," Emmett informed us with satisfaction. "We're going to get married when I get back from here."

We all slapped him on the back and ruffled his hair playfully and he grinned with happiness.

"What about the rest of you lads?" someone asked from over in the corner. "You, Edward, you got a girl back home?"

I swung my head to stare at him, then shook my head slowly, creasing my brow. For some indefinable reason I felt jealous of Emmett when he spoke of 'his Rose' and their plans together. He sounded so sure of himself and where I was concerned, nothing seemed to be so concrete.

"Who is it that you're always writing to then?" Emmett pressed me curiously. I blushed; he had come across me several times while I had been writing to Bella and I had refused to show him the letters. The others saw my red cheeks and crowed loudly, ribbing me.

"Who is it, Eddie?"

"What's her name?"

"Bella," I mumbled, turning my face away from them in embarrassment. They whistled and jeered and nudged me playfully. Then I felt a strong hand land on my shoulder and saw Emmett's arm stretched over to reach out to me. His face was uncharacteristically serious as he gazed straight into my face.

"Do you love her?"

I stared at him, completely thrown that he had asked me that which I had never thought to ask myself. My jaw fell slack and I just gaped for a moment before swallowing noisily and replying in a whisper that surprised even myself, "Yes, I do."

Emmett clapped me on the back and everyone else fell silent.

"Do this for her, then," he told me earnestly. "Fight for her, then go back to her. D'you hear me?"

I nodded, my throat suddenly dry, and he seemed to realise that and didn't press me further. Conversation gradually grew up again but I stayed silent, weighed down by my revelation. Emmett had made me realise something that I felt like a fool for never having realised before. _I loved Bella._

Now that I thought about it, of course I did. It made perfect sense, like I had been just waiting to put a name to a part of me. Except that, for me, this was almost as terrifying as facing the German guns had been. I was just as much walking into the unknown now as then, only this time I was doing it alone and the others couldn't bail me out if I went wrong.

What was I supposed to do now, now that I _knew_? Should I be different? No, surely that would be ridiculous. People don't change when they fall in love. My musings continued for some time, my mind rambling confusedly until I fell into an uneasy sleep punctuated by laughter and exclamations from the others.

They shook me awake a while later and I opened my eyes in surprise to find that it was dark outside the shelter and that inside we were preparing to move. With my leg crudely bandaged, my mobility was severely reduced and a couple of the others were wounded too so we would made a slow party. We split off into two small groups and agreed to meet back at base, hoping that this would help us avoid detection by the German lookouts.

As we crawled out of the hole, Emmett slung my arm around his shoulder and supported part of my weight, allowing me to creep back more easily. Stealth was imperative and so we tried to keep low and avoid sudden movements that could attract attention, hunching over and walking or, in my case, dragging my leg along.

Although we made slow progress, eventually we reached the comparative safety of the barbed wire lining our trenches and pushed through in the places it had been cut for the attack this morning. The darkness covered our movements and we managed to slink back into the trenches unseen by the enemy, to our great relief and our comrades' amazement.

"Thought you were all goners for sure," they muttered to us as we moved through the trench towards our own section.

Exhausted, we collapsed and separated for the night and I fell asleep instantly, as soon as I let my muscles relax. My leg throbbed quietly the whole time but I barely felt it, and my last thought before I gave into sleep was of getting my leg seen to and then fighting and surviving for Bella.

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**AN: Yes, another AN, I know how you love them. So this chapter is pretty big – definitely some significant events happening here so I'd love to hear what you think. Do you reckon I captured the battle OK? **

**I have been writing feverishly to get this chapter and one other out before Christmas so that one should be posted some time tomorrow. Keep an eye out for it – it's not as dramatic as this one but is quite sweet :) **

**Thanks to Cullenista for her help on this chapter – without her it would be nothing but a jumble of words that don't make any sense (I mean more than it is now).**

**Thanks for reading.**

**RosieWilde**


	7. To A Soldier In Hospital

**AN: So here it is, your Christmas chapter as promised. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and thanks, of course, to my amazing beta Cullenista.**

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To a Soldier in Hospital

**EPOV**

I was admitted the next day into the hospital that had been set up in the nearest French town with instructions to stay there and rest for the next two weeks. I was lucky in that the bullet was removed cleanly from my thigh and the wound began mending quickly, the flesh slowly knitting back together. I was in less pain from it now and actually found myself enjoying my brief reprieve from the front, resting in a real building and sleeping in a proper bed.

While I was in there I saw the passage of other soldiers through the hospital, some needing only to be patched up and sent back out and others checking in for the long haul. The nurses in this place, I noticed, were completely swamped and overworked and struggled to keep up with the growing casualties but still managed to do a good job. I was well taken care of and didn't feel like I had been neglected, but I was lonely. I got a couple of visits from some guys in my regiment, but aside from that I spent the majority of my time in my own thoughts.

Much of this was passed in reflecting on my home and in hoping that I would soon be granted leave to visit. It had been months since I had seen the faces of any of my family and I missed them greatly, although I would never have admitted this to anyone. I gathered from a passing nurse that it would soon be Christmas and I lost myself in imagining what Forks would be like at this time.

There would be snow lining the ground and covering the trees in the wood with only a path cut through the drifts by the journeys of countless feet that would wear down a safe passage. Last year, Bella and I had muffled ourselves up in our coats and scarves and hats and taken off into the fields for a snowball fight. Before long, we had collapsed, panting on the drifts of crunchy snow, laughing so hard that we ended up clutching our sides and gasping for breath, all thoughts of the battle forgotten.

I closed my eyes and relived the moment, gazing through my memory at Bella's face, flushed against the white snow, her bottomless eyes glittering with mirth and her mouth caught in a smile of pure happiness. It felt like this moment did not belong to me; like I had stolen it from somebody else's life, as it could not be that only a year ago, I had been running through snowy fields with Bella by my side.

For the most part, I had pushed memories of home away while I was in France as it hurt me to bring these untarnished moments into this hellhole, but I held this one close regardless. It helped to calm me and made me strong, made me feel like I could go back into the trenches without breaking down, without screaming that I didn't want to die.

I had seen a man do just this, seen him beg not to be made to fight again, and I had sworn never to do that no matter how afraid I was. He had wailed and pleaded and sobbed until the Lieutenant just ignored him and walked away and he was left, shivering and crying on the floor of the dugout. The next morning I had heard that he had run away, deserted our ranks. He had been caught later that day and appeared before a Court Marshall, but we all knew what would be his fate.

Death by firing squad was the punishment for desertion and none of us thought that the Court would hesitate in delivering this sentence. Everybody knew someone who was on the firing squad but nobody sought out any information. It was taboo; nobody spoke of that man again and nobody inquired how he had met his end. He was wiped off the map like he had never existed and the commanding officers tried to pretend like that was the case. We said nothing; there was nothing to say.

As it grew closer to Christmas, I spent more and more time in writing letters; to Bella, for the most part but I also made sure to write often to my parents as well as to Alice who, I heard from Bella, was always excited when she got a letter from me. They were filled with mindless cheerfulness and assurances for my family that I was well and enduring the war robustly. I did not want them to be worrying about me at home and so I tried to keep my tone light and reassuring, never hinting at the realities of this bloody attrition. It was only with Bella that I could let any of my loneliness seep into the letter, and it was her replies that kept me from going insane in the long weeks that I spent on bed rest.

I finished and signed off the letter I was writing then glanced back over it before I sealed it in the envelope. I hoped it didn't sound too pathetic or pitiable and that Bella wouldn't think me a fool for having told her what I was thinking. She was more understanding than anyone had any right to be but that didn't mean she wouldn't eventually get bored of my moaning and stop reading my letters. If she no longer wrote back to me then this time in France would become suddenly so much harder to bear.

I almost crumpled the letter in my fist but then thought better of it. Surely I was being ridiculous; Bella wouldn't abandon me over a letter. I perused it again and, just to be sure, injected a little more hope into the first page. Now it should be fine. I just needed her to know what I was feeling, or at least some of it.

_15th December 1917_

_Dear Bella,_

_Thank you once again for your letter last week as well as for the home knitted socks. I know you said they were my mother's creation but I had a feeling you had something to do with it and her letter confirmed it. You are very kind._

_I wish that I could bring you more news than I can at the moment. I have been almost completely out of touch since my time in the hospital and besides, even if I knew anything I could not tell you. Our letters are censored to make sure we are not giving too much away, should they fall into enemy hands. All I know is that there was a big push a few days ago, while I've been lying here incapacitated and useless, and that we've gained a couple of miles of German front line. The Generals are pleased about this, I hear, and hope this means we can push on and win the war. _

_My leg is definitely healing and is clearly better than even a week ago – I can stand on it now and hobble around and soon, with any luck, I shall be completely mended. They should be sending me back to the front in a week or so and I shan't be sorry to leave the utter boredom behind, although I shall miss sleeping in a warm bed._

_But enough about this, I'm sure you don't want to hear about the tedium that is currently my existence. Tell me about home. Tell me about Christmas in Forks and about sitting around the fire on Christmas Eve. I imagine you stretched out before it, pushing your toes towards the warmth and your eyes focused as you watch the flames dance in indiscernible patterns. I imagine myself sitting next to you, reaching forwards to feel the warmth of the fire on my fingertips and breathing in the scent of pine from the tree and cinnamon and spices wafting from the kitchen. _

_In my head, we are all there, your family and mine, and we are sitting together and laughing. Then we will all wrap warmly and go to Church for the Christmas Eve service and you and I will catch each other's eye throughout and have to stifle our laughs in our sleeves. And on the way home I'll take your hand and we'll look at the stars and marvel at them nestled in the night sky and we'll both smile, just because we're happy and we want to._

_Somehow, Bella, even from across the ocean you make me smile when I think of you, and I thank you for that. It is the best Christmas present I can think of as there is little to smile about here. I wonder if the Generals will realise that it is Christmas? I suppose, why would they? Christmas is nothing but another day, at least out here. But I hope that your Christmas is special and that it is everything I imagine._

_Keep well and be safe,_

_Edward_

The next week passed in a sort of blur, each day melding into the next until my life became one long cycle of sleep and monotony. I clung to my memories and small fantasies, cherishing them as the one thing that stopped me from going insane.

**BPOV**

I folded up Edward's letter and sighed quietly to myself. Running back upstairs, I slipped it into the drawer where I kept each letter he sent me and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, biting my lip. With every fibre of my being I wished that Edward was here now and, by his letter dated more than a week ago, it seemed that he wished the same thing.

Christmas without him was a quiet affair. The Masens had invited my father and I over for Christmas day, just the same as always, but it seemed like a certain light had gone out of the place. Something was missing and everybody was aware just what that was. Mrs Masen tried, bless her, to make this year as festive as any other and had outdone herself with decorations for a tree that should never have fit through the door to begin with. She had prepared the most delicious meal, with solicited help from Alice and myself, and afterwards we sat together around the fire and tried to tell happy stories.

However, every story that made me smile contained Edward and although we talked about him and laughed over things we had done, I preferred not to dwell too long on his absence. I wanted him to be here, in our thoughts even if not physically, but I missed all too sharply the warm body that should be sitting next to mine, the twinkling eyes that should be smiling at me when I looked over at him, and the unruly shock of bronze hair that should be glimmering a bright copper in the firelight.

It just wasn't Christmas without him.

**EPOV**

Stretching out my leg I affirmed that I could stand and walk on it, and with that I was pronounced fit to return to the front line. The process of gathering my belongings took only a short time and I was soon discharged.

As I walked out of the small but oddly cheerful hospital, the darkness outside it absorbed me and I instantly missed the bright lights inside. We travelled in silence back to the front line and I was deposited by the Lieutenant sent to collect me at the mouth of my dugout.

Ducking my head, I walked inside and was greeted by the miserable faces of the three other soldiers who shared this area with me. Emmett raised a hand lazily to wave at me but the others, save a curious glance, ignored me altogether.

"Merry Christmas!" he called to me, putting in little effort to make his voice cheery. His greeting was laced with a bitterness that I could not help but share, incarcerated as we were in this hellhole.

I flopped listlessly down on my bunk and closed my eyes, blocking out the echoes of shells exploding a few miles away.

"Merry Christmas," I muttered morosely in reply.

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**AN: Well, there you go. Sorry if it wasn't the joyful Christmas tale you were hoping for but that's not really my style ;) Please leave me a review and tell me if you hated it (or even liked it) as I really want to hear your opinions. **

**Thanks for reading and I'll be back soon-ish with a new chapter! Merry Christmas!**


	8. Not To Keep

Not To Keep

**BPOV**

_Early February 1918_

"Come _on_ Bella, we can't be late," Alice insisted, tugging on my arm as we hurried down Forks' one main street towards the local school.

Thanks to her constant loitering around the school, or more specifically the young schoolmaster, Jasper Whitlock, I had found myself volunteered to help out at an event that the children were holding in support of the war effort. As a result, I had spent the last six hours frantically baking cakes and knitting tea cosies for the charity bazaar to raise money for equipment for our soldiers in France.

I was not averse to the cause, as such, but I resented standing around watching Alice shamelessly flirt with Jasper, as he had insisted we both call him, much to her delight. To my astonishment, however, he seemed to respond a little to her advances and, although nothing had been declared between them, it was clear that they each took pleasure from their frequent meetings.

I was happy for Alice, of course, but could not help but be concerned over where this could possibly lead; after all, he boasted nearly twenty-four years while she had just turned seventeen, and over the last few months I had become a sort of surrogate older sister to her, looking out for her as I knew Edward would were he here. I worried that she barely knew him; I knew that _I_ did not trust him and she was so sweet and credulous. I felt bound to protect and warn her that he might not be all he seemed.

She burst through the door to the assembly hall with her usual enthusiasm, pulling me through after her before skipping away to deposit her coat and hat and to find her Jasper. I followed at a more subdued pace, dropping my coat onto a hook and glancing around me apprehensively.

The hall was a flurry of activity as children raced around, flushed with excitement and nerves as they arranged last minute stalls and displays. I hung back at the edge of the hall, reluctant to enter into the mêlée for fear I would be trampled by the hordes of excitable feet. Alice beckoned to me from the back of the room, however, and with a sigh I dodged my way over to her, knowing that resistance was futile. She greeted me with unrepressed joy as if we had not arrived together and I could not help but warm up to the afternoon as Alice's enthusiasm was infectious.

"Hello, Bella," Jasper greeted me politely, ducking his head and smiling as he spoke. Not for the first time I remarked that he had a noticeable southern accent which, despite myself, I could not help but find very pleasant to listen to. "It's very kind of you to volunteer to help us."

Alice shot me a warning look as if daring me to respond, but I winked at her when his attention was distracted and kept my mouth shut. She seemed relieved and I briefly flicked through my previous comments about this event; did she really think I would ruin this for her?

We were quickly set to work sorting and organising the mishmash of things donated for the jumble sale and before long I found myself up to my elbows in books, clothes and toys. Alice and I made light work of the pile, however, and within twenty minutes we had set up an appealing looking stall that any fundraiser would be proud of. I collapsed, exhausted, onto a chair set up behind the table but Alice was having none of it and hoisted me upright again, dancing off in search of our next job.

By the time three o'clock and the grand opening came around I could be found manning the cake stand, armed with a sharp knife and a pile of plates, ready to serve up slices of Victoria sponge to the unsuspecting townsfolk. Over the next few hours I was kept busy with a steady stream of customers and the jingling of coins in the collection tin I had been given was becoming louder and more insistent.

As the bazaar started to wind down, I tipped out the tin to count our spoils, sifting quickly through the pile of coppers to add them to the tally. I was making a pile of quarters when I saw Jasper approach Alice, who had been serving teas to the visitors, and tap her on the shoulder. She turned to him and he led her over to a secluded corner of the hall.

I tried not to watch to give her a degree of privacy but my eyes kept sliding back to the couple huddled by the opposite wall. They seemed deep in conversation and at one point he reached out to touch her arm before hastily withdrawing his hand. She seemed upset, and I was halfway decided to march over and demand to be told what was going on, when they broke apart and Alice walked quickly over to the door and out of the hall.

I lingered just long enough to see that Jasper watched her go, his hand rumpling his hair in agitation and a strangely sad expression on his face, before I dropped the money I was counting and ran out after her. She was leaning against the wall of the building just around the corner and when I got nearer I saw that tears had left wet stripes down her cheeks.

"Oh, Alice," I murmured, taking her into my arms and stroking her hair soothingly.

"Bella," she sobbed, hiccoughing slightly and burying her face in my blouse.

"What happened?" I asked, worry evident in my voice as I cradled her head and she gulped before replying.

"Jasper –" she began before clearing her throat and trying again. "Oh, Bella, Jasper just – he just told me – he's going away to fight in the war!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face and I hurried to wipe them away with my handkerchief.

I had nothing to say to this and could only clutch her tighter and rock her gently on the spot. I knew first hand what it was to have someone you cared about go to fight and there was no comfort I could offer her. She had not taken Edward's leaving well and I could only imagine how she would react to the departure of the object of her infatuation. When Edward had left, it felt like he took my soul, my purpose in life with him and I would not wish that uncertainty and omnipresent fear on anyone, especially Alice. Once again, I wished I could protect her and prevent the dread she would feel at the thought of losing two men she loved.

The only small comfort I could draw, although I could not share this with Alice, was that she would hopefully soon outgrow her infatuation and not suffer too long. It was a feeble hope and I could barely bring myself to cling to it, even if it would be the easiest option for all of us. When did any of us ever do what was simplest, most straightforward?

Eventually her tears stopped and she blew her nose on my handkerchief, releasing her hold on my waist to clutch at my hand instead. I stood still and silent beside her, lost for words, not daring to say anything lest I should set off the torrent of tears again. Together we went back into the hall just in time to help with the final clearing up and we tried to take our minds off the news by packing up trestle tables and folding bunting and banners.

While Alice was distracted for a minute, Jasper sidled up to me and whispered anxiously in my ear. "Is Alice alright?" he asked and I saw that his face was genuinely concerned making me soften towards him a little.

"She will be, I hope," I replied and his forehead creased in worry.

"Jasper," I began, "Alice is like a sister to me and I intend to take care of her. The last thing I want is for you to make some hasty declaration then run off to war leaving her heartbroken. She is very young and it would destroy her." I raised my eyebrows at him to cement my point and he looked vaguely bemused.

"I would never do anything to hurt her," he replied sincerely and as I looked at his face I felt inclined to believe him. "And I know she is young but she is one of the sweetest, most kind hearted people I have ever met. She deserves only the best," he concluded and a shadow passed over his face, although it was gone before I could be sure I had seen it.

At that moment, Alice approached me carrying our coats over her arm and handed mine to me with a shy smile at Jasper. Being the gentleman that he was, he held out her coat for her to slip into and she flushed slightly and smiled her thanks.

"Thank you very much for all your help, both of you," he said politely and we assured him that it was nothing at all. As we stepped out into the evening, his smiling face lit from the hall behind him accompanied us down the dark street and Alice beamed and waved at him until we turned a corner. Clutching her coat tighter around her small torso, she smiled secretly to herself and made no attempt to include me in her private musings.

We walked in silence to the street where both our houses were situated and when we reached her house she turned to me without a word and pecked my cheek with a swift kiss before running inside. I watched her go with an indefinable expression on my face, half joy that she was so happy and half fear about what was to come. If only I could be sure that everything would work out for her – but uncertainty is part of the nature of life. None of us can know what the future will bring and that is part of its wonder and allure. I sighed and walked the yards further to my own house, slipping inside the front door into the warmth and welcoming light.

My father greeted me in the kitchen where he sat by the table leafing through a pile of papers.

"A telegram came for you," he told me, gesturing to the envelope that lay on the table, separate from the rest of the sheets.

"A telegram?" I questioned him, panic immediately seeping into my voice and binding me to the spot. "What is it? What does it say?"

"This came for you this afternoon and that's all I know," he replied, his interest barely stirred, and I thought impatiently that he could not understand what this might mean.

Struggling to control my breathing, I reached out my hand and snatched up the envelope, slitting it open to reveal a short message dated only two days before.

_10th February 1918_

Fighting to control the rising hysteria in my throat, I quickly perused the one short line.

_Granted leave. Aboard ship now. Expect my arrival in three days time. Yours, Edward_

I clutched at the chair nearest my hand to support me, my fingers still gripping the slip of paper tightly. Recovering slightly, my instant relief that he was alive was quickly followed by joy that he was returning to Forks. I knew that he would have only a few days before he had to return, but the thought of seeing his face again filled me with an indescribable elation.

I could barely contain myself as I relayed the news to my father and then ran down the street to celebrate with the Masens. He was coming home. My Edward was coming home.

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**Not my longest chapter, I know, but I think it's really important for the story.**

**I'm going away now for a few days but when I get back I'll work hard to get out the next chapter quickly. I've already started it and it's the longest to date, so hang on in there ;)**

**Hope you guys had an awesome Christmas and that you're looking forward to New Year's Eve!**

**Love RosieWilde**

**By the way, I've started a thread over on about this story - if you have a minute, go and check it out. The link is on my profile but the address is: **

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www dot twilighted dot net forwardslash forum forwardslash viewtopic dot php?f=44&t=1745&p=207252 hash p206152

**(I don't think it will let me post a direct link)**

**I don't know if you understood any of that, but if not just follow the link through my profile ;)**

**Thanks again!**


	9. Back In The World

**Well, here it is, the chapter we've all been waiting for! Thank you for all your amazing reviews - my face aches from smiling so much when I read them :) And, of course, eternal gratitude to the amazing Cullenista for her job as beta.**

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Back In The World

**EPOV**

As the train pulled into Forks' small railway station I stood up and slid my pack off the luggage rack overhead, slinging it over one shoulder and stepping down onto the platform leaving the puffing train behind me. My leg dragged slightly as I walked and I cursed the barbed wire that had mangled my ankle when a shell landed near our dugout the previous week. I was lucky to be alive, I was sure of that, and many of my brothers had lost their lives in the explosion.

I gave over my mind, for a few moments, to thoughts of the dead soldiers I had known, whose ranks now outnumbered those of the living. Around me on the platform I saw the silhouettes of those men who I had set out with all those months ago, now mostly dead or missing. My head was always filled with ghosts these days.

The contrast from the last time I was here was staggering; there were no crowds of tearful mothers and gruff fathers, no party to hug and wave at me as I was whisked away. I pushed the images from my head, preferring not to think about what had been. I was no longer the boy that had joyfully boarded the train to bloody attrition and I doubted whether even being home could bring him back. He was not me anymore.

I walked alone along the deserted platform and strode rapidly through the quiet streets. It was still early in the morning and there was a chill in the air that signified that the blanket of clouds had yet to shield the town from the frosty night just passed. I had not sent any further word other than a short line to Bella and my mother to let them know I had leave so there was no-one to meet me, and I was glad that there was no witness to my arrival.

Most of the men in my regiment thought I was crazy to come all the way home on leave, and themselves preferred to stay in France and squander their days in taverns with French women. I could not bear the thought of the false merriment that would ensue, the idea of drinking myself into forgetting all that I had seen. I knew that I had to see Bella; that she was the only one who could erase the horrors of the trenches. A pretty woman and a keg of beer could not do that for me.

Although I had taken the time to clean myself up before I boarded the train, I still felt dirty, like the mud of the trenches had followed me even back to Forks. Approaching the corner that rounded into the road my house was on, I almost stopped and turned right back around. What if I couldn't handle this, if everything had changed and I no longer fit in; or worse, if everything had stayed the same. Could I go back to the life I had known before having seen what I had seen, knowing that I had changed?

I paused on the street, frozen rigid in position, the internal debate raging in my head. It would be easy to just go back to the station, get on a train and go back to the front. I could send another letter saying my leave had been cancelled at the last minute and that I wouldn't be visiting anytime soon. No-one would suspect that anything was amiss; this kind of thing happened all the time, I knew from my friends in France.

Suddenly, a figure rounded the corner and I felt my heart lurch in my chest. Her head was turned away from me as she called back to someone behind her and I only saw the back of her head, brown waves tumbling haphazardly down over her shoulders.

I could not breathe, could not move, could not tear my feet from the sidewalk or my eyes from her form, exactly as I remembered it. Her head swung around to face where she was going, no doubt in an attempt to avoid tripping, and her eyes locked on me where I stood not twenty yards away from her. For a moment she froze, brown eyes wide with shock, then she was in motion again. She ran towards me, flying over the distance between us and flinging her arms around my neck, the basket in her hand dropping to the ground behind me, forgotten.

Slowly I began to thaw out and hesitantly wrapped my arms around her back, holding her small, warm body securely to mine. Bella hung onto me, her breathing hitched and I softened still further, burying my face in her hair and inhaling deeply, her scent stirring a memory inside me, almost like a dream, half forgotten.

After a few moments that felt like hours she detached herself and stepped back, averting her eyes, a characteristic blush sweeping across her cheeks, no doubt of embarrassment about her sudden display of emotion. I stared at her, amazed, unable to tear my eyes from her face for even a moment. My gaze swept over her deep brown eyes, soft cheeks and full, pink lips, marvelling at the vision before me. How many times had I conjured an image of her to get me through in the trenches? Yet now here she stood before me, in the flesh, every bit as real as I was.

Slowly she raised her eyes back to mine, almost as if she was having as much trouble averting her gaze as I, and we stared at each other for a few moments, drinking it all in.

Her voice rang out like chimes, the inflection and tone so individual and familiar I swear I could pick it out a mile off. "I didn't know when you would arrive. I would have met you at the station."

She seemed reproachful and almost sad so I hastened to reassure her. "It was last minute."

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me and for the first time they left my face to sweep my body, before coming back to rest on my eyes once more. "Are you alright?" she asked with concern.

I was surprised by her question and glanced down at myself in confusion. My limp was still prominent, I supposed, and I was covered in cuts and scars, but nothing that should cause her to regard me as if I were on my deathbed. I frowned as I looked up to see her still looking at me speculatively, her gaze shrewd and piercing. Instantly I was reminded about how I always felt that Bella could look at me and see right into my head; she was extraordinarily perceptive and could tell what I was thinking better than anyone.

Biting her lip she surveyed me and I felt like she had stripped me naked and was standing me up for inspection. After a moment, however, she shrugged and her eyes took on a new glint as she stepped up to me and took my hand. Gazing earnestly at my face she told me in a small voice, "I'm glad you're back."

I felt my face crack into a smile, as if the mask that I had worn for the last few months had been shattered, and I could tell that, for the first time since I had left, it reached my eyes.

Releasing her hand, albeit reluctantly, I bent down to pick up the basket that she had thrown away in her haste. Scattered on the road were numerous small jars, and as I replaced them I noticed that they bore my mother's signature script on the label.

Bella saw me looking at the pot I held in my hand and bent down to collect one that had rolled further away, taking the basket from me. "I was just about to deliver these to our neighbours. Your mother got a little over zealous with her jam making this year," she explained, a small, amused smile crossing her lips.

Offering to help her on this errand, I accompanied her through the streets as we visited each house, stopping to chat for a few minutes with each of the women that opened the door. As we walked side by side I took the opportunity to examine her minutely, looking for any signs of alteration. Very little about her had changed since I had been away but there was something indefinably different, perhaps in the way she carried herself with more purpose or in her smoother, less rushed movements. She had softened and matured in the months we had been separated and the new grown-up aura about her suited her well. She was more beautiful than she had been even when I had left, and at the moment she seemed to be glowing, blossoming in the prime of her life.

We continued her rounds together and at every house, there was an exclamation of surprise, rapidly followed by joy that I was returned and I was forced to explain each time that I would only be staying a few days. Each earnestly wished me luck and I tried to smile and thank them but I felt as if I was now separated from them in a way I never had been in the past, allowing a new bitterness to overtake me. I had been through trials that they could never understand and now I realised that things could never return to their pre-War state. I was irrevocably changed.

After a few more calls I excused myself, knowing that before long the news would filter through to my mother that I was back and I should go home before that happened. I was loathe to leave Bella for even a moment, feeling as if I had just got her back after months of separation, but I reluctantly tore myself away, having secured a promise that I could see her again later.

Her face lit up when I expressed my desire to spend more time with her and my heart jolted in my chest, for a moment fooling me into thinking that she could return my feelings. It hurt all the more, therefore, when I realised that this was more than unlikely considering I had been away for months, and the bottom sunk out of my stomach when I considered the idea of her getting a sweetheart while I had been at the front. It felt like I was swallowing acid so I quickly pushed those thoughts away, focusing instead on the miracle that she seemed pleased to see me. It was only small comfort, but I would take what I could get.

I pushed open the garden gate and walked up the path to the door, gently nudging it open and easing myself inside. It was beyond surreal coming back to the home that, at times, I had been convinced I would never see again but I also felt a sense of well-being and safety that I had not felt in some time.

Heading towards the kitchen I poked my head around the door and was greeted with the sight of my mother busying herself at the stove, boiling what looked like more fruit for marmalade. I smiled quietly to myself, imagining Bella's reaction, then tapped my knuckles lightly on the door.

She spun instantly, startled, and her jaw dropped when she saw that it was me standing at the door. With a cry she threw herself at me and clutched at my face to bring it down to her level so that she could kiss my forehead. Her eyes surveyed my face, and taking in the scratches I knew to be lining it, began to collect moisture. Before long she was sobbing noisily, clutching at my cheeks and shoulders.

"Edward!" she called in between sobs, gasping loudly. "Edward, come here!"

The door flew open and my father rushed in, eyes wide and panicked as he looked quickly around him for the source of the disturbance. Seeing me in my mother's arms he let out a breath quickly and reached out an arm to pull me into a quick hug.

Gruffly, he said, "Son, I can't tell you how good it is to see you here."

My mother nodded and hiccoughed in agreement and clutched both him and me to her body, still shaking as she wept.

"There, there Elizabeth," my father tried to comfort her with, patting her back, and as she calmed I gently prised myself from her iron grip. Slipping from the room I made my way upstairs, hesitating before pushing open the door to my bedroom.

Inside, it was as if time had stood still. My Latin books were still piled on the desk as if I had only set them down yesterday; pulling back the counterpane I noticed that the bed was made up and ready to be slept in. No dust had collected in the room and, on inspection, I saw that my clothes still hung in the closet as I had left them.

I heard a light tap at the door and opened it to see my beaming mother sporting a large bowl and jug of hot water.

"I thought you might like a wash after your long journey," she suggested happily and I took the porcelain basin from her, squeezing her hand in gratitude before she turned and descended the stairs.

For the first time, I realised that I was coated in thick dust from the train and felt a sudden urge to remove any trace of my travels. Stripping off my uniform, I slung it on the bed and began to splash myself with the luxuriously warm water. I carefully scrubbed every inch of my body, desperate to wash away any trace of the trenches or the war, rubbing until my skin was red and raw.

It seemed that no matter how hard I scoured my body, I could never rid myself of the feeling of being unclean, polluted, yet I went through a whole bar of soap in the attempt. When the water had cooled to a tepid degree, I conceded defeat, gingerly patting myself dry with the soft towel that my mother had brought up.

The water stung in my still-fresh wounds and I winced as I brushed the towel over them, inspecting my limbs and torso for any cuts that needed attention. Once I had ascertained that they were all minor, I searched for some clean clothes in my closet, not wishing to further think on them. My injuries, like the dirt, belonged to the trenches and now that I was back in the real world, they seemed out of place.

Selecting fresh attire, I shrugged into a casual white button down shirt and my usual brown trousers. It felt almost like I had wandered into a costume shop, or into somebody else's life and I was just trying it on for size. The clothes were undoubtedly mine but they felt different than when I had last worn them. For me, coming back here, everything was unchanged, exactly the same, but also entirely different.

It was unnerving to see that my family had kept this room for me, as if I would return from the war and slot back into my old life as if I had never been away. It was a comforting gesture; they still wanted me and loved me, that much was clear, but it also left me disconsolate. I knew that, if I lived to see the end of the war, I would not come home to live in this room. I had grown up in these last few months and I was no longer the boy they had loved. The trouble was, I did not know who I was.

I ran a finger along the spines of the books on my shelf, wiping away a mote of dust that had settled there. I stared at it as it rested on my fingertip, the one sign that I had ever left. I blew gently and it disappeared, the last trace gone, as if I really had woken up in the neatly made bed this very morning.

"Edward! Edward, dear, could you come down here please?" The call from downstairs echoed through up the stairwell, breaking into my musings and bringing me back to the present.

Taking off my cap and setting it down on the bed, I ducked through the doorway and set off down the stairs, following the sounds of clattering into the kitchen. My mother heard me come in and turned, a luminescent smile on her face, before bustling over and directing me to a seat at the table.

She then proceeded to ply me with dishes that she had whipped up, trying to tempt me with all my old favourites. I tucked in, to please her, and she beamed at me as I ate, overjoyed to have her son back under her wing. However, for the first time I found that I could be full and that there was a limit to what I could eat, and reluctantly she withdrew from the stove to sit opposite me.

"Edward," she began tentatively, "I've heard what they say –"

She broke off and twisted her hands together nervously as if loath to continue. I could guess what she wanted to talk about and was much opposed to encourage her, but I realised it would be better to settle it now than have the issue brought up again during my few days here.

"What have you heard?" I asked her, trying to sound interested but failing to hide the bleakness in my tone.

She assessed me cautiously before continuing, "I've heard what they say about – the trenches – about the war –"

I raised my eyebrows and she finished in a rush. "Oh, Edward, is it really as bad as they say?"

In that moment, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to shock her, to scare her, so she would not be so proud of me, so she would see what I had really become. The look on her face, however, stopped me. She looked so vulnerable, so lost and in need of reassurance.

I almost laughed out loud at the irony; I had hoped, naively, that coming home would make everything alright. It had been years since I'd hid in my mother's skirts, feeling that nothing could hurt me if I was in her arms, but on some level I had hoped to reclaim that today. Instead, I was left comforting her, offering reassurance that was not mine to give, pacifying her with lies and half-truths.

"No," I told her decisively, my words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. "It's not that bad. Really, it's almost like an adventure. The boys and I have some fun times."

Immediately she perked up and regained her smile, leaning across the table towards me. I unconsciously leaned away from her, upset that I was being forced to lie but knowing that I could never be the cause of her smile being wiped away again.

"Will you tell me about it?" she asked eagerly.

I shook my head, not looking at her. "I would rather just enjoy the few days I have back home. Tell me about what's been going on here."

She looked slightly disappointed but launched straight into a story about herself and her lunch club the previous week and there was no need for me to participate, save the occasional nod or murmur of agreement. She needed little prodding and that suited my state of mind at the present time.

It could have been hours or merely minutes before the kitchen door swung open once again and my sister danced lithely in. Upon seeing me sitting at the table, her whole face lit up and she let out a veritable squeal of joy. I stood up and she raced around the kitchen, she burying her face in my chest and wrapping her arms tightly around me, every so often letting out an excited squeak.

Eventually she peeled herself away and jumped up to latch her arms around my neck. I had to laugh, watching her stretching up to me, and patted her dark head which only came up to my chest.

"You're home!" she squealed. "I can't believe it! We've all missed you so much and now you're home!"

"Just for a few days, Alice," I cautioned her but she brushed that off in her irrepressible excitement.

"There are so many things that we have to do," she continued in a rush, speaking so fast that her words began to blend together. "I have to take you round to see everyone; my friend, Catherine, is just dying to talk to a real soldier!"

"Alice," I began, frowning and shaking my head, but she ignored me.

"And then there's the school. Bella and I were planning to build a swing for the children and now you can help! And of course you must meet Jasper –"

She trailed off suddenly, her face turning pink as she looked away and I glanced over her head at my mother, my eyebrows raised questioningly. She only shook her head, her lips pressed together in disapproval and I bit back a scowl. Was this Jasper someone who I would have to keep my eye on?

The three of us talked for a while and before long my father joined us, the whole family sitting around the table together for the first time since the previous summer. It felt wonderful to come back to this; I had missed it more than I realised initially, but it still felt like I was not quite whole. There was a part of me missing yet and I thought I knew where I could find it.

Excusing myself from the family reunion, I set off out of the front gate in search of Bella.

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**Well, what did you think? Fluffy enough? I love a bit of angst, myself ;) Drop me a line and let me know - go on, it will only take two seconds. Please?**

**And if you feel up to it, a comment on my thread over on twilighted would also be greatly appreciated! The link's on my profile.**

**Have a great few days and, if I don't post before, a brilliant New Year :)**

**RosieWilde**


	10. The Silent One

**Happy 2009 everybody! Consider this chapter a little New Year's present for you to ease you back into the real world after the festivities. Hope you're not still hungover, hehe ;) **

**Just to remind you, Edward's back from the front and has been reunited with Bella and his family. Now he's looking for that other part of himself (chorus 'aww')...**

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The Silent One

**BPOV**

After Edward left to visit his family, I floated through the remainder of the deliveries, my mind barely focused enough to give the appropriate responses to the chatter supplied by the recipients. My thoughts were fixed on Edward and the fact that he was home now, for however short a time it might be.

I would catch my concentration slipping mid-conversation and realise that I had been staring vacantly at a spot on the doorframe instead of listening to whoever had answered the door, and have to shake myself and force my mind back to the task at hand. The last few jars seemed to take forever, each minute lengthening to a week, but eventually I was done and free.

I wandered slowly back towards my house, meandering thoughtfully through the familiar streets of Forks with the basket slung haphazardly over my arm. Seeing Edward appear before me like that had shaken and flustered me in a way that I could not remember happening before.

He was almost like a stranger in his uniform, his face scratched and scarred and lined with stubble in a way that it had not been when he'd left. I had to confess that the look suited him; he seemed much older than he had only months ago and his whole demeanour exuded self-assurance.

Talking to him as we walked together had shown me that it was not only his appearance that had altered during his months at the front. He was quieter and more reserved and his smile came less readily to light up his hollow eyes. I was relieved to see that the Edward I had known was still there underneath, however; he seemed hardened by the war but not changed irrevocably. In this new Edward was everything I had loved about my childhood friend, his kindness, sense of justice and dry sense of humour, but also something unfamiliar; some new found maturity and strength that had not been present mere months before.

I arrived at my front gate and reached out to unlatch it, pushing it open distractedly and letting myself through. I heard a shout from behind me and turned towards the owner of the voice that I would recognise anywhere; Edward was striding towards me from the direction of his own house just down the street.

"Bella!" he called again, growing closer, and I gripped the gate harder as my heart leapt in my chest at the sight of him.

"Hello again, Edward," I greeted him with a smile and his answering one was dazzling as he reached me and stood on the other side of the iron gate.

"Did you see your family?" I asked, and he nodded in confirmation. Looking away from his face I noticed that he had, in fact, been home as he had changed into his ordinary clothes.

It was comforting for me to see him dress as he had before he left as it made him seem less distant, less incomprehensible to me. However, he looked slightly uncomfortable in them and occasionally tugged at the hem awkwardly, drawing my attention to the fact that he was not wearing a coat over his thin shirt. The air temperature outside was freezing and, looking closer, I saw that he was shivering where he stood in the street.

"Would you like to come inside?" I offered and he nodded his assent, following me in by the front door and through to the kitchen, the warmest room in the house. I gestured to a seat before the range and he accepted, watching me as I took off my coat and hung it outside in the hallway closet.

I walked back into the kitchen and pulled up a chair next to his and we just sat there, taciturn, for a minute or two. Eventually Edward broke the silence and turned to me, asking anxiously, "How have you been while I was away? Have you been well?"

A quick glance at his face showed me that he was genuinely concerned so I hastened to reassure him. "I'm quite well, Edward. We all have been just fine since you left."

"Your father?" he asked quietly, twisting his fingers in mine as he waited for my answer.

His words sent a knife of panic twisting in my stomach and my eyes instantly welled up making me blink quickly, refusing to let the tears fall. I took a deep breath before I replied but when I did I was pleased to hear that my voice was quite steady. "He has been well enough. He still does not eat as much as I would like and I worry he is sickening for something. The winter has done him no favours."

I felt him gently squeeze the hand he held in his own large fingers and I looked up from my lap to see him smiling comfortingly at me.

"He's going to be alright, Bella," he told me softly, rubbing soothing circles onto the back of my hand.

"You don't know that," I whispered, unable to raise my voice or meet his eye. "It's been so hard seeing him deteriorate and although he seems a little better now, I worry he could get ill again. You can't know he'll be alright, no-one can."

"Bella, look at me," he commanded and I raised my gaze to meet his, biting my lip to stop it from quivering. He stared deep into my eyes, holding me in place with one look, keeping my eyes trained firmly on his face. "I know," he continued firmly. "Some things you just have to believe, and this is one of them. Your father will be fine."

Caught in his gaze, I could not help but have confidence in what he was saying, even though my doubts continued to nag at the back of my mind. I nodded my head slowly, never breaking eye contact, and he smiled at me, satisfied.

Leaning back in his chair but still keeping hold of my hand he demanded, "Tell me everything that happened while I was away. Don't leave anything out."

When I didn't answer immediately, he glanced over expectantly and I shrugged in a bemused way. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," he answered simply. "Tell me what you did, who you saw, where you've been. I want to feel like I was here too."

I floundered for words for a moment longer but he continued to regard me with anticipation so, taking a deep breath, I plunged in. I tried to describe the events of the last seven months, filling him in on anything he'd missed and giving details of things that I considered unimportant but that made his face light up.

Every so often, he would interrupt and ask a question or make a comment, and once he even laughed out loud, something I had not seen him do since he had come back. It seemed to be a strain for him, too, but after that his smile came more readily, illuminating his expression and bringing that familiar twinkle to his eye.

Some time later, as I was describing the charity bazaar for the war effort, his face crumpled into a frown and he cut me off by holding up one hand, palm out.

"Wait a minute, that reminds me of something. Who's _Jasper_?"

"Jasper?" I asked surprised; catching sight of the suspicious look on his face I struggled to frame an explanation. "He's the new schoolmaster," I hedged, then seeing he wasn't satisfied continued reluctantly, "Alice is quite attached to him."

"Attached?" he exclaimed, worry written all over his features.

"I'm hoping it's nothing serious," I added hastily, hoping to calm him. "She's still very young, I'm sure she'll get over him."

He was still frowning unhappily so I rapidly changed the subject, hoping to divert him.

"Enough about Forks - tell me about the war. What was it like?" I asked eagerly, real curiosity burning in my voice.

Contrary to my hopes, however, his frown did not disappear but rather deepened, creasing his forehead and furrowing his eyebrows menacingly. I had known him too long to be deterred, however, so when he did not answer I pressed him again, asking, "Please, Edward, describe it to me. The closest _I've_ ever been to the front line is Seattle."

"Good thing, too," he growled at me and I started back, shocked at the harsh tone to his words.

"Edward?" I asked cautiously, "please will you tell me about it? About the war, the fighting, what it was like to be a soldier?"

"No," he barked and again I was astonished by the bitter and almost angry tenor to his voice.

"But you promised!" I gasped, aware that I was sounding like a child but too wounded to care as much as I should.

He only glared at me, a look that cut right to my soul and hurt more than I thought any mere glance could. Suddenly my anger flared that he was treating me like this; did he think he could go away for seven months then come back and treat me like I didn't matter?

My chest puffed out and I jumped to my feet, feeling my cheeks flush with the zeal of wounded pride. "What is wrong with you?" I demanded, my voice rising when he didn't respond. "Why won't you talk to me? What gives you the right to come back here and behave as if you're suddenly better than me?"

By this point, my eyes were filling with tears, yet again, and my voice was becoming choked up, but my pride stopped me from breaking down right there in the kitchen. Instead, I walked out into the hall and held the door open for him, gesturing that he should go.

"I think it's time for you to leave," I stated firmly and stared at my feet as he walked slowly towards the door, passing me by and wafting my way the scent of soap and musk that I associated irrevocably with Edward. He paused briefly on the thresholdand I peeked up to see him staring at me, a sadness far beyond his years unconcealed in his eyes.

He left without a word and I closed the door after him, resting my head against the cold wood. Without warning, I found that I could hold back the tears no longer and I slumped against the door, my eyes closed and my fingers gripping the handle, and I let myself cry.

**EPOV**

_That night_

I lay spread-eagled on my bed, gazing up at the chalky plaster of my ceiling, my brain numb as I tried to lose myself in the intricate landscape of peaks and crests that comprised the roiling surface. Breathing deeply, I shut down each part of my body, one by one, and forced myself not to think, not to feel, to be empty and still.

Tracing indifferently a crack that ran the length of the ceiling, I tried desperately to concentrate on anything but the squeezing feeling in the centre of my chest. It felt like I was being crushed under some great force, flattened and pulverised by the weight that lay heavy on my heart.

Another wave of despondency overtook me and I apathetically let my eyelids fall, blocking out the sights around me and reducing the glare of the white walls that was hurting my eyes after the months of muted browns and greens. My head was swimming and I relinquished my last vestiges of sanity to the chaos, allowing myself to fall into the tumult.

I welcomed it as it meant relief from the pain that had consumed me since I had returned from Bella's house this afternoon. The questions swirling around my brain swallowed me and I let myself go, no longer caring that they burned as they ran through my mind in taunting circles.

_How could she want to know about the trenches? Did she not know what she was asking about? What she was asking of me?_

_How could I tell her? How could she expect me to tell her?_ The picture of her face when she indignantly cried, "you promised!", so childishly indignant and innocent, had made me want to cry. She was still cocooned by the sheltered existence we had inhabited throughout our childhood and for a moment I was overcome with envy. I fervently wished that I could come home as if nothing had changed and live my life as I would have, had I never left.

Now, however I was on the outside and I could see with a clarity that I had never possessed before. With shock I realised that I did not really desire to be shielded once again from the realities of the world. I had walked around with my eyes closed for almost my entire life and I would not go back to that blinkered state for anything. I wished more than anything that I could erase the atrocities I had witnessed, but I would not trade the awareness they had brought. I had changed, I knew, and for the first time I thought that it might not be for the worse.

Suddenly I was overcome with a new fervour and purpose. Bella was right; what was wrong with me? I had to tell her about what I had seen and done. I would shake that naivety right out of her and make her see the horrors that awaited her in the real world. Her bubble needed to be burst and I would take it on myself to do this.

Filled with a self-righteous anger, almost insanity, I leapt off my bed and pulled open the bedroom door, stalking down the stairs and down the hall. A quick glance at my watch told me that it was after midnight and that I had been staring at the ceiling for much longer than I had realised. Undeterred, I slipped through the front door and out into the frigid February night air.

Discerning too late that I had again forgotten a coat, I shivered and picked up my pace in an effort to keep warm. Within a minute I was standing outside Bella's house, staring up at the window that I knew led to her bedroom.

Quickly surveying the house I assessed the options, coming to the conclusion that I would have to climb the tree outside her window. It wouldn't be the first time; as children we had occasionally snuck into each other's rooms at night in fits of rebellion or playfulness and the route into Bella's was not unfamiliar.

I scaled the tree relatively easily, only contracting a few scratches, and paused on the branch level with the windowsill, contemplating my next move. In the past my visits had been expected so the window had been left open in readiness, but this time it was closed against the frosty wind. I nudged it experimentally and, to my relief, found that it budged a little telling me that it was not latched but only pulled shut. I jiggled my finger under the edge of the window frame and carefully prised it open, hoping it would not squeak and give me away to Bella's father.

Opening it wide, I used my leverage on the windowsill to lower myself quietly into her room and I glanced around me, disoriented by the pitch dark that was apparent without the sliver of moon outside shining through the windowpanes. I moved away from the window to allow it to shine through and gradually my eyes adjusted to the darkness.

A quick glimpse showed me that the room was unchanged from when I had been in here as a child, many years ago. The bed was, as I remembered, tucked at one side of the room next to the window and I tiptoed over to it, intending to wake Bella and tell her exactly what she had asked to, but I was sure did not want to hear.

My vehemence pushed me on though my eyes strained against the lack of light, but as I grew closer I could make out a recumbent figure lying on the bed facing towards the window. The shard of moonlight illuminated Bella's features as she slept, throwing unnatural shadows onto her face and the pillow she rested on. Her hair was fanned out over the creamy pillowcase behind her and one hand was splayed out by her face while the other was clutched into a fist beside it, in a gesture that was somewhat childlike.

The sound of her steady breathing filled the small room and I felt myself calm as I watched her sleep, my own breathing slowing to match hers in a synchronic pattern. Even in the semi-darkness she seemed extraordinarily beautiful to me and the weak moonlight gave her features an otherworldly quality that made her seem only more distant and unattainable.

As I silently watched her, fascinated by each intake of breath and mesmerised by the way her full lips slightly parted in sleep, I seemed to deflate, the phony anger and purpose draining out of me. She looked so peaceful, so innocent as she slept and every quality that I wanted to purge her of only a few minutes before I now yearned desperately to preserve. I knew that I could not tell her about the trenches and the battles; I could no more take from her that innocence and purity that I so loved than cut off my own hand. I wanted to protect her, to take care of her and suddenly that was all that mattered.

Part of me wanted to stay nonetheless, to watch her sleep and guard her until she woke, but my rational mind told me I could not do that. It was nothing short of an invasion of her privacy to stay, especially while she was still angry with me, and my heart sank at the thought. How could I explain that I could not tell her about what I had seen? That I loved her and needed to protect her above all else? She would hate me and there was nothing I could do about it.

Feeling as if I were crumpling, folding in on myself, I turned to leave, a desolate sigh escaping my lips, when Bella stirring in the bed stopped me in my tracks. Anxious that I had woken her, I looked round in time to see her to roll onto her back and turn her head to the other side almost fretfully.

"Edward," she murmured, consternation evident in her voice, which then turned fretful and was filled with distress as she whimpered quietly to the darkness. A skewer of pain shot through me upon hearing that I was the source of her sorrow and I was frozen to the spot, staring in horror at Bella's figure in the bed as she moved restlessly.

She turned her head back so that it was facing me once again and her lips parted slightly, a small smile spreading over her beguiling features. "Edward," she breathed, her eyelids fluttering a little, and this time her voice sounded peaceful, almost contented.

My heart jumped in my chest at the sound, as if it had just received a bolt of static, and started racing furiously, pounding so loudly I feared she would wake and hear it. Bella sighed once more and then fell silent, her breathing returning to its regular pattern that so soothed me.

Forcing my body to move, I pushed open the window and, closing it carefully behind me, shimmied down the tree trunk and jumped to the ground, wiping my hands on my trousers. With one final glance back at the window behind which my angel slept, I ran home through the cold night, the sound of my voice on Bella's lips ringing in my ears.

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**Thanks to all my dedicated reviewers: vamosrafa07, AMTS, Edward's La tua Cantante, Monica08, EJ Santry, potterlight, AdabellaCullen to name a few. I love you guys - you make me smile :) And the rest of you (I know you're out there) just hit that button and leave me a note. Please?**

**RosieWildexx **


	11. Between The Lines

**Well, there you go, another chapter. Hope you all like this one - it was hard to get right and I'm not sure I did. It's also my longest to date.**

**I was planning to wait 'til tomorrow to post this cos it's the middle of the night, but I felt depressed and needed something to cheer me up. Hopefully this will do the trick :)**

**Uh, this is kind of random but I just thought that you should know that philately is the study of stamps. Maybe you already know that...**

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Between The Lines

**BPOV**

I woke late to harsh, bright light streaming through my window and blinked slowly, disoriented and bemused that I had slept so long and so deeply. It had been months since I had truly been able to relax and rest and I had not, until this point, realised the effect this had been having on my body. Now I felt refreshed and invigorated in a way that I had forgotten I could, and I was filled with uncharacteristic optimism.

My good mood clouded over slightly when I remembered the events of yesterday afternoon. My immediate excitement that Edward was home was quickly tempered with the memory of the fight we had got into and I tried to resist becoming dejected. However, it was undeniable that I was crestfallen; the idea that we could waste the few days that we had together in argument was exceedingly painful to me and I was determined that it should not happen again. I would not push him anymore and if he didn't want to tell me something, he didn't have to. I could forgive anything of Edward if he would just keep himself safe and come home to us.

I lay in bed for a few minutes longer, basking in the knowledge that I could see him again. Of course, I would have to be tactful considering I had yelled at him the day before, but it was nothing he didn't deserve. His behaviour had been insufferable and he had certainly hurt my feelings, but I was prepared to make allowances for that. We had been friends our whole lives and I just had to believe that we would work it out together.

My eyes were caught by the clock which told me that it was already nine o'clock and berating myself for wasting half the morning in sleep, I jumped up and dressed quickly, heading downstairs in search of my father and breakfast. I followed the sound of his voice to the front room and pushed open the door, pausing in surprise when I saw who he was talking to.

"Alice!" I exclaimed, taken aback at seeing her sitting on my settee at this time, and she smiled a greeting at me.

"Good morning, Bella. Did you sleep well?" she asked politely, her eyes darting between my father and myself as she spoke.

I mumbled an indistinct reply for which I received a disapproving frown from my father who was seated comfortably in his favourite armchair and looking better than I had seen him in weeks.

"Alice was just saying that Elizabeth has kindly invited us over for lunch today," he informed me reprovingly and I hastened to rearrange my features into a mask of well-mannered hospitality.

"That's very kind," I replied, smiling furtively at Alice. "We would be delighted to join you."

She nodded her head in recognition of my acceptance and then stood up, taking her leave.

"I look forward to seeing you later, then, Mr Swan," she remarked warmly and turned to go, shooting a meaningful look at me and tilting her head towards the door in a pointed manner. I escorted her out into the hall and together we slipped out of the front door into the cold morning. Shivering and rubbing my arms to warm them I asked her, "What is it, Alice? What's going on?"

"I need your help," she urgently replied and I nodded my head for her to go on.

"Of course," I responded, waiting for the next part.

"It's about Jasper," she told me earnestly and I made no reply, keeping my face expressionless so she would continue.

She sighed loudly and shook her head, her eyes boring into mine imploringly. "I know you don't approve, Bella, but please, you have to help me. Edward kept asking questions about him last night and he seemed upset about it so I thought that if he met Jasper he would stop worrying."

I frowned, not convinced by Alice's logic, but she went on regardless.

"I invited him to lunch today," she rushed out and I felt my eyes go wide with shock.

"Alice! What did you do that for? Edward will interrogate him, your parents will be disapproving and the whole affair will be so uncomfortable!"

"See, Bella, that's where I need you to help me," she replied keenly and I sighed and shrugged my shoulders.

"I don't know, Alice, what can I do?"

"I need you to talk to Edward. Please? He listens to you, I know, and if you asked him then I'm positive he would behave." Her eyes became round and pleading and when I hesitated, her bottom lip began wobbling forlornly. I sighed, conceding defeat and she smiled triumphantly as I bit my lip apprehensively.

"I knew you'd help me!" she exclaimed, victorious and I only rolled my eyes.

"You don't play fair," I grumbled ungraciously, "you know I can't say 'no' when you look at me like that!"

"All's fair in love and war," she chirped cheerily and ushered me back inside my house. "Now, quick, go and get ready to come over for twelve, alright? I need you to be there a bit early so you can talk to Edward."

I let her push me in and shook my head, half amused and half bewildered as I closed the door behind me.

Before we could go over to the Masens' there was plenty to be done so I was kept occupied for the remainder of the morning with dusting and washing, only realising how the time had fled when eleven thirty was already upon me. I hastily took off my apron and ran upstairs to change, only having time to throw my hair back into a quick knot on my head and splash my face with water.

We left the house promptly, thanks to my constant hassling, and found ourselves knocking on their door at exactly twelve noon. Alice flung open the door and ushered us in, giving me a meaningful look as I passed her, which made me sigh resignedly. In the front room, Mr and Mrs Masen sat around on settees and armchairs and I saw that we had also been joined by Mr and Mrs Stanley. I was annoyed to see that they had brought their daughter, Jessica, who was around my age but who I had always found to be giggly and tiresome.

She was standing by the fireplace, chattering away to Edward who had his back to the door, staring at the fire and looking extremely disinterested. When he heard us come in, he turned and his face lit up in my favourite crooked smile, dazzling me as his green eyes gazed into my brown ones.

I smiled warmly back, preferring to overlook our row yesterday, before going over to greet Mrs Masen and thank her for inviting us to lunch. She was the gracious hostess, as usual, and soon we found ourselves sitting around and chatting in a relaxed fashion, content to enjoy each other's company.

My father and Mr Masen were soon embroiled in an in-depth conversation about fishing, of which I caught very little other than a heated debate about the best type of hook.

"No, Edward, that's simply not right," I heard my father protest. "I find a straight shank hook to be much more effective when you're using live bait –"

Effectively tuning them out, I turned my attention to the conversation between Mrs Stanley and Mrs Masen which consisted mostly of gossip about the neighbours, to the slight distaste of the latter. The former however, like her daughter, prattled away obliviously until Mrs Masen cut her off, exclaiming suddenly, "Oh dear, we seem to have run out of drinks!"

She looked pointedly at Alice, who was reluctantly engaged in a discussion with Mr Stanley about the benefits of visiting auction houses when seeking a certain rare stamp, and who looked eager to escape. However, I jumped up before she had the chance to respond and offered to collect the tray from the kitchen myself. As I walked out I enjoyed the murderous look on her face; it was invaluable and adequately served my desire for revenge for her pleading this morning.

From the front room I heard Edward announce that he would help and rapidly bolt after me, catching up just as I entered the kitchen. He caught my eye and we instantly burst into laughter, which I muffled by biting down on my knuckle while he buried his face in his hands. After a moment, we calmed ourselves and leaned companionably against the counter as Edward shook his head in disbelief.

"That has to be the dullest girl I have ever conversed with," he told me quietly so that our voices wouldn't carry to the other room, and I nodded my head in sympathetic incredulity.

"You should have heard her father lecturing Alice on philately," I countered and he began to shake with laughter again. "Her expression was priceless. She looked as if she would readily throttle me when I abandoned her to him."

"What a family!" he marvelled and I nodded in agreement. "Anyway, we can't hide out here forever, much as I'd like to. We'd better get those drinks."

Turning away, he moved to the cupboard to remove another dusty bottle of port, but I put out a hand to restrain him, realising that this was probably my best chance to broach the subject of Jasper with him.

"Wait a minute," I suggested, removing my hand from his forearm which was reached out to grab the bottle. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

He let his arm fall and looked at me questioningly, waiting for me to continue.

"It's about Jasper," I began and I saw his eyes flare with recognition, taking this as a sign to go on. "Do you have some kind of problem with him?"

His brow creased into a frown that seemed more natural these days than the light-hearted laughter we had shared a few moments before and he answered, "A problem? I don't trust him. What does he want with my sister?"

"I've actually met Jasper, on several occasions," I informed him peaceably. "As far as I can tell, he seems a very respectable, thoughtful man."

"He's nearly seven years older than her!" he exclaimed violently and I hastened to pacify him, taking his hand in both of mine. That seemed to distract him for a few moments and he stared at our intertwined fingers as if mesmerised. I started to feel self-conscious and tried to withdraw my hands, but he held them tight with his and looked up at my face, his gaze calmer than it had been.

"I'm just worried about Alice," he explained rationally. "She's so young and innocent; she thinks every man she runs into is her true love."

I frowned at his condescending evaluation of her and rushed to her defence. "That's not fair. She may be young but she's no fool. Don't forget that it wasn't so long ago that we were seventeen," I reminded him and he looked at me with the strangest expression on his face.

"I remember," he whispered and moved slightly closer to me, almost unconsciously. For a moment we just stood there, gazing at one another, and I found myself completely lost in his earnest countenance. His sparkling emerald eyes were spellbinding and my breathing hitched as I stared into them.

Eventually I came to my senses and cleared my throat, stepping away from him and searching in the cupboard behind me for some more glasses. Emerging with them clutched before me, I arranged the tray, still not looking at him as he stood next to me.

"So if you were to meet Jasper, do you think you could be civil to him?" I asked, hoisting the tray off the counter and turning to scrutinise his expression.

With a pained look on his face he conceded, "I could," and I beamed at him. There was a knock on the front door at that moment and I heard a scrabble in the hallway as Alice rushed to answer it.

"That's good, because that must be him now," I told him and his jaw dropped at Alice's audacity, I assumed. "Remember, be civil," I threw back over my shoulder as I walked out of the room, carrying the tray carefully and watching my feet to be sure I would not trip. After a stunned silence, he followed behind me and we re-entered the front room together in time to see Jasper shaking Mr Masen's hand.

Edward paused at the door for a moment and then strode forward to the small party, interrupting his father's welcome. "You must be Jasper," he said curtly and I winced, biting my lip and shooting an apologetic look at Alice.

She grimaced in response and ran over to intercede. "Yes, Edward, this is Jasper Whitlock. Jasper, meet my brother Edward."

Jasper extended his hand and Edward shook it briefly before dropping it like it had burnt him and turning away to listen to Mrs Stanley's gossip.

Sighing quietly to myself, I walked over and greeted Jasper warmly, hoping to make him feel less unwelcome after Edward's abrupt introduction. He smiled back at me and didn't seem too fazed so we were soon engaged in conversation, Alice and I laughing at his dry sense of humour. At one point, I thought I saw Edward watching us out of the corner of my eye but I ignored him, focusing only on Jasper who was currently regaling us with a story about his childhood in Texas. He was very easy to listen to and I found myself slipping naturally into a comfortable and friendly state with him, making the time fly by.

I was caught up in the image of the baking summer in the south that he described when Mrs Masen announced that lunch was ready, and I reluctantly left Jasper's company to help her usher everyone into the dining room. As I walked by him, Edward shot me a death-glare and I was taken aback, wondering what I had done to upset him.

We all filed into the dining room and took our seats where Mrs Masen and Alice proceeded to load the table with mouth-watering dishes they had prepared that morning. When we were all set, Mr Masen signalled that we should bow our heads and he briefly said grace, not forgetting to include a prayer for our soldiers at the front.

The food tasted as good as it looked and soon we were all tucking in, and I was pleased to see that my father was eating heartily and seemed to be enjoying his meal. Some colour was returning to his face and he was smiling and laughing with Mr Masen at the head of the table, looking better and stronger than he had in almost a month.

I smiled to myself and glanced across the table at Edward who was sitting opposite me. He was watching me, I noted, but as soon as I caught his eye he scowled and looked away, giving his attention instead to Jessica who was on his right. Feeling slightly rejected, I turned to thank Mrs Masen for the wonderful meal and she smiled kindly at me, making me feel a touch better.

My attention was captured, at that moment, by a shrill giggle from the middle of the table and I glanced over to see Jessica laughing and looking at Edward from under her lashes, her hand resting possessively on his forearm. He was leaning into her and whispering in her ear and she giggled again and swatted at him, her lashes fluttering like mad. I couldn't understand why he was being so overly friendly towards this insipid girl but it was clear that he was not rebuffing her advances. I swallowed, a bitter taste in my mouth, and looked away disgusted.

Alice and Jasper were to my left and my smile grew wider as I watched them interact at the table. She seemed to gravitate towards him and his eyes barely left her, a smile constantly fixed to his face. My own smile faded, however, when I caught Edward shooting daggers at him and I decided that I should try to pry them apart to keep him from spontaneously combusting at the lunch table.

Having succeeded in gaining Jasper's attention, I distracted him with stories of my own life and childhood, sharing tales of scrapes Edward and I had got into when we were very young. We laughed together when I told him about the time that Edward got stuck up a tree with Mrs Crowley's dogs barking at him and I hazarded a glance at Edward out of the corner of my eye to see if he would smile at the memory. On the contrary, he was positively fuming and with a final murderous glare at Jasper, he pushed back his chair and stood up from the table.

"Excuse me," he forced out from between clenched teeth, and stormed from the room. There was a moment's silence while everybody watched him go and a quick scan of the room told me that most faces were surprised, with the exception of Alice who looked sad, and Jasper who seemed resigned.

With all eyes on me, I gently slid out of my seat and, addressing myself to Mrs Masen said, "Thank you so much for this wonderful lunch. If you'll excuse me, I think there's something I should take care of."

She nodded to me, understanding in her eyes, and I walked from the room, each footstep echoing painfully in the stillness. It was only as I turned into the hallway that I heard the voices start up again, the chatter slowly escalating until it once again covered the clatter of my shoes on the wooden floorboards.

I found Edward standing at the window in the front room, his hands shoved into his pockets and his scowl firmly in position on his face. He did not turn when I entered and so I just stood there, taking in the way his shoulders were hunched and his tense muscles rippled down his back. My eyes traced them almost unconsciously, noticing his toned forearms, revealed by his jacket sleeves pushed back, where the muscles stood out as if he were clenching his fists in his pockets. My gaze swept along his neck and I imagined running my hands through his hair and holding myself close to him.

A quick shake of the head brought me back to reality and, angry with myself for being so weak, I narrowed my eyes and forced myself to remember his behaviour. "What is wrong with you?" I asked, my tone a little harsher than I had intended.

He stiffened as he turned to glare at me and I found my anger increasing as we glowered at each other, each trying to wear the other down.

"What is wrong with _me_?" he hissed menacingly and I almost shied back but controlled myself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had unsettled me. Sensing a row brewing, I jerked my head towards the front door and walked towards it, unceremoniously yanking it open and leading him outside.

I felt rather than heard him follow me but I did not turn around, instead continuing walking until we had turned off the main street and into a field behind the houses, out of sight and earshot of anyone who might be around.

Abruptly, I spun to face him and stopped in his tracks so that we were several yards apart. "What do you think you were doing in there?" I asked incensed, my anger and outrage jockeying for first place in my mind.

"What was _I_ doing in there?" he sneered, narrowing his eyes as he glared at me accusingly.

I let out a cry, frustrated and infuriated by his evasiveness and derisive attitude and spat back, "Will you stop with the questions! Just answer me!" My hands bunched up into fists as I yelled at him, enraged beyond coherency and he watched me, his calmness angering me almost more than his wrath.

Feeling as if I wanted to scream and bang my fists on the ground, I dropped my face into my hands and focused on slowing my breathing. When I was more composed I asked in a strained voice, "Is it Jasper? Do you just hate him that much?"

His face darkened in response and he exhaled sharply, running his hand through his hair in aggravation.

"Honestly," I continued, "he's really nice and he has a great sense of humour. I like him a lot."

"I can see that," he spat at me and I flinched, seared by the malice in his tone.

"What do you mean?" I asked him, bewildered and he shot me a withering look.

"Did you have to flirt with him like that? It's bad enough that he's after my sister, but to have you too –"

He trailed off and I felt my jaw drop, staring at him in utter amazement. He thought I was flirting with Jasper? Was that why he was so upset? In confusion I considered this option but I couldn't fathom why it would bother him so much if I had been flirting, concluding he was just overprotective.

"I wasn't flirting with him, I was just being friendly. After you treated him like dirt, I was trying to make him feel less unwelcome," I explained to him and saw him scoff and shake his head disbelievingly. Sudden rage overtook me and I snapped at him, "You're such a hypocrite! I saw the way you were acting with Jessica, whispering in her ear and laughing with her. She was all over you! And you looked like you were enjoying it," I accused, unable to stop the hurt from seeping into my voice.

To my surprise, he didn't try to deny it but only hung his head, refusing to meet my gaze. I waited for a response, watching him expectantly, and eventually he replied with the last thing I expected to hear.

"I'm sorry," he murmured quietly so that I had to strain to hear what he was saying. "I was upset that you were having so much fun with Jasper but that's no excuse. It was very childish of me and I apologise."

I couldn't think of anything to say to this unexpected turn in the conversation and so I stood rooted to the spot, noticing for the first time the bitter cold of the February afternoon and the way the wind whipped at my skirt and blouse, tugging them away from my body. I wrapped my arms around my chest and hugged myself tightly, wishing I had grabbed my coat before storming out of the house.

Edward looked up at me, remorse filling his face, and saw that I was shivering, goose bumps leaping up all along the back of my neck.

"You're freezing," he murmured and stepped towards me, slipping off his jacket and handing it to me, leaving him in only a thin white shirt.

I tried to refuse, worried that he would freeze, but he insisted so I gratefully slung it over my shoulders, holding the lapels tightly in one hand to keep out the frigid wind.

"What's going on with us?" I asked sadly as we stood together in the sparse field, the trees at the edge offering little protection from the cold.

He shook his head and sighed but I pressed on resolutely. "We keep fighting and now that you're back you seem further away than ever. We hardly talk anymore."

He took a few steps away from me and I watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, instantly recognising the gesture that expressed his worry or discomposure.

"Edward?" I asked timidly, not knowing how to handle this man who was growing more and more distant. When he did not respond, I walked up behind him and rested my hand on his arm in a cautious gesture, careful not to push him too far.

Still, he did not turn so I decided to just speak and let him listen. "I've missed you, Edward. I thought about you everyday and I can't tell you how relieved I am that you're alright. If I could, I would keep you here and not let you go back. But I know I can't do that," I finished sadly, my voice softening to a murmur.

His frown lessened and he relaxed slightly under my touch but still he would not look at me. "Edward," I continued, moving around so that I was in front of him looking directly into his face. "Please tell me about what it was like for you. Please," I pleaded gently, leaning closer to him. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to mine and I could see that his expression was tortured, his eyes boring into mine, burning me and sending heat flooding through my limbs.

"I can't, Bella," he whispered, his voice strained and his eyes conveying immeasurable sadness.

"Why not?" I asked, bringing up one hand to stroke his cheek, desperate to erase the pain he was feeling. His eyes fluttered closed and he held absolutely still, barely breathing as I caressed his features. "Why can't you tell me?"

Eyes still closed, he leaned into my palm, his skin feeling rough and yet unbearably soft on my palm. Taking a deep breath he whispered, "Because I love you," so quietly I had to strain my ears to hear.

In that instant, everything stopped; I could no longer hear the wind roaring in my ears or feel the cold as it seeped under my borrowed jacket. The silence rung loud in my head and I dropped my hand from his face in shock.

After a moment I realised I had stopped breathing and gasped, raggedly drawing the chilling air into my lungs. Edward's eyes snapped open and suddenly they were staring into mine again, scorching me and seeing right through to my soul.

"I love you, Bella," he continued his voice no longer a whisper but growing in volume and rough with emotion. "I thought about you every moment in the trenches. Anytime I was afraid or in danger, it was you I saw before my eyes. You can't imagine what it was like –"

He trailed off and I just stared at him, incapable of doing anything further. He reached out to take both my frozen hands in his larger ones, his sincere gaze never leaving my face.

"That's why I can't tell you," he went on in a rush. "You can't know about what it was like to face the guns, the bombs, to see a man so like yourself but have to shoot them. I couldn't bear it if you knew." His voice broke on the last word and my heart contracted with his pain.

Following this violent outburst, he broke away from me and stepped backwards, never taking his eyes off me, and ran his hand through his hair agitatedly. As my eyes scanned his stricken expression I suddenly found my voice.

"Oh, Edward," I breathed, stepping towards him to trace the angular plane of his cheekbones. Then I threw my arms around his waist and buried my head in his chest, holding him close in an attempt to give what little comfort I could. At first he did not move but after a few moments he wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me closer so that I was pressed tight against his body.

We stayed there for what felt like an interminable length of time before he pulled away and gazed at me, pressing his lips together hesitantly. "Did you hear what I said before, Bella?" he asked cautiously, trying to gauge my emotions from the expression on my face. "Bella, I said that I love you," he reminded me anxiously and still I did not reply, biting my lip nervously.

He sighed and stepped away from me, releasing his hold on me and I immediately grieved for the loss of his touch. "Edward, wait," I called out and he attempted a weak smile at me, his eyes alone betraying his desolation.

"It's alright, Bella," he told me gently. "I understand. It's fine." His voice broke again and he hastened away from me, back towards the road and our homes.

I stayed paralysed for only one moment longer before I was running, tearing after him, cursing my long skirt that got in the way. I caught up with him and placed myself between him and the direction of the edge of the field, halting him in his steps.

"No, Edward, you don't understand. I love you too, of course I do, but I – I just – I don't think I'm good enough for you," I finished in a rush, hiding my face in his jacket which I still clutched tightly to me, breathing in his scent which clung to it.

"You love me?" he asked, his voice low and rough, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair from my eyes.

"Didn't _you_ hear what _I_ said?"

"Bella, you don't see yourself very clearly," he told me, weak with relief and with a touch of amusement colouring his tone. "If anything, I don't deserve you," he went on, his voice turning sour and acrid, but I was too distracted in that moment to process what he meant by it.

"I love you," I whispered, taking hold of the hand that still rested inches away from my face and he smiled, the bitterness melting away and being replaced by wonder and awe.

He reached out and pulled me back into his embrace, holding me gently but with fervour, his strong arms wrapping tightly around me and warming me more than any jacket ever could. His breathtaking green eyes drilled into mine and I couldn't move, couldn't breathe as he slowly, hesitantly moved his face towards mine.

We were only inches apart, still locked in each other's gaze, and he exhaled, his sweet breath mixing with mine and dancing over my lips and cheeks. I lifted my mouth towards him and paused, not sure exactly how to go on. He closed his eyes and I stood on tiptoe to fit my mouth to his, melting into his arms when his lips touched mine. They were so soft and warm, moulding to mine as if we were two pieces of a puzzle, made to slot seamlessly together.

I reached up and wrapped my arms securely round his neck, one hand tangling in his hair as I had longed to do so many times before, and pulling his head down further, deepening our kiss. His lips gently caressed mine, and one of his hands ran up my back to stroke up my neck and come to rest on my cheek.

After a few moments, he pulled away and gazed down at me in sheer wonder, his eyes sparkling and his face glowing. I gazed back, sure that I must be flushed and dishevelled, a suspicion that was confirmed when he ran one long finger down my cheek to my mouth where he traced my lips reverently.

"I love it when you blush like that," he murmured, his voice huskier than usual and it sent chills through my body, making me shiver in his arms. He moved so that my head was cradled against his shoulder and he was stroking my hair, and I shifted so that one arm was wrapped around his back and one hand rested on his chest.

He sighed and held me close, seeming to be reluctant to move an inch, and that was fine by me. We stood there in the field, oblivious to the biting wind whipping around us as we swayed together, our arms clutched tightly around each other as if we would never let go.

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**OK, there you go. Is it what you've been hoping for? I hope so cos that's what you're getting, hehe. If you like it, drop me a line and let me know. If you have any tips or criticisms, I want to hear them too. See if your comments can lift me out of my funk. Go on, give it a go...**


	12. A Man Of Few Words

**Thank you all for saying so many lovely things even though I was such a grouch last chapter! I love you guys. You all put the biggest smile on my face :)**

**I have made a photo album for this story, the link to which is on my profile. It basically contains pictures that I think set the mood of the story well and that give you a good idea of the period and the scale of this war. Edward is just one man and there were millions that lost their lives. And while you're on my profile, don't forget my twilighted thread. I'd love to see more of you over there and I do post teasers if you want to check them out ;)**

**Now, I have a favour to ask. I currently have 96 reviews and if I don't get 100 from this chapter then I think I'll cry. Can you please bump up the number for me? (I'll happily take 100+ by the way so don't think your job is done. It never ends *evil laugh*.)**

**Thanks again to my wonderful beta, Cullenista. I worship her, seriously.**

**Also, I would like to dedicate this chapter to EJ Santry, a brilliant reviewer and lovely person to talk to. I tried to follow your suggestion but I'm not sure I did a very good job. The description of the curtains and settees is for you, lol. **

**Sorry for the rambling AN! Here you go then, EJ Santry's chapter. Enjoy :)**

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**Quick reminder of the end of the last chapter:**

"_I love you, Bella," he continued his voice no longer a whisper but growing in volume and rough with emotion. "I thought about you every moment in the trenches. Anytime I was afraid or in danger, it was you I saw before my eyes. You can't imagine what it was like –"_

"_I love you too, of course I do, but I – I just – I don't think I'm good enough for you," I finished in a rush, hiding my face in his jacket which I still clutched tightly to me, breathing in his scent which clung to it._

"_Bella, you don't see yourself very clearly," he told me, weak with relief and with a touch of amusement colouring his tone. "If anything, I don't deserve you," he went on, his voice turning sour and acrid, but I was too distracted in that moment to process what he meant by it._

_He moved so that my head was cradled against his shoulder and he was stroking my hair, and I shifted so that one arm was wrapped around his back and one hand rested on his chest. _

_He sighed and held me close, seeming to be reluctant to move an inch, and that was fine by me. We stood there in the field, oblivious to the biting wind whipping around us as we swayed together, our arms clutched tightly around each other as if we would never let go._

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A Man Of Few Words

**EPOV**

I barely noticed that I was frozen in the icy field; I was too wrapped up in the beautiful creature in my arms. When she held me, her warm body pressed tantalisingly close to mine, I ceased to be aware of anything but the alluring scent of her hair and the feel of her hot fingers resting on my chest.

It was a struggle to tear my eyes away from her for long enough to really notice our surroundings, but when I did the sight alone made me shiver and pull Bella closer to me, both protectively and seeking comfort. We stood in the middle of a barren wasteland, the large empty field stretching out balefully behind us. We were barely sheltered by the woods to one side so the wind swept across the open plane, roaring in my ears and almost creating a maelstrom of frosty air around us.

For some reason, I found the bare earth quite menacing as it seemed interminable, spreading portentously to the horizon. This expanse of land, which had the potential to be fruitful and profitable were it cultivated, was abandoned and discarded, forgotten and left to fester. The symbolism was jarring and I shuddered again.

Bella looked up at me questioningly and I smiled to forestall the inquiry, not wishing to share my ominous judgement with her. Seizing the opportunity, I leant closer to her and she exhaled quickly, fanning my face with her mouth-watering breath. Her eyes widened and I could feel her heart rate pick up as it thudded against my chest, matching mine as it raced in my own breast.

Trying not to appear hesitant, I ducked my head and brushed my lips to hers for the second time, closing my eyes at the sensations flooding my body. It felt as if a jolt of electricity passed from her mouth to mine, setting all my nerves tingling as I cautiously reached up a hand to cup her cheek with my palm.

She sighed and moved unconsciously against me, causing me to swiftly lift my face away from hers. At that moment, there was nothing I wanted more than to move closer to her, to hold her so tightly that she would never move away, but I knew I couldn't do that. She was trusting me to look after her and I would never do anything to make her feel uncomfortable.

She frowned at my quick retreat and bit her lip anxiously, worrying it with her teeth. "Bella," I murmured reprehensively and she let it go in surprise, enabling me to run one finger along her lip, marvelling at the softness. She relaxed against me again and I allowed my fingers to run up and down her spine, tracing up to the back of her neck and making her tremble.

Eventually Bella reminded me that our parents might be wondering what had become of us and I reluctantly relinquished my hold on her, instead taking her hand firmly in mine. Her touch alone seemed to reassure me, make me feel that everything could be alright, and I was filled with a hope that I had been untouched by since I had arrived at the trenches.

We walked together back to the road and towards my house, neither of us speaking nor feeling that anything needed to be said. I clutched her hand tightly like a lifeline, marvelling that such a perfect creature would accept me, damaged as I was. I felt almost giddy with happiness and relief, all the tension released from me by her presence alone. She was everything to me; everything that I could no longer be and everything that I aspired to.

When we reached my front gate, Bella stopped and pulled her hand from mine, taking off my jacket that was slung around her shoulders and handing it back to me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly at her and she shot me an apologetic look before leading the way inside, closing the door behind us.

We found our families assembled in the front room once again, drinking coffee and chatting lightly about all manner of affairs. My mother and Mrs Stanley were seated together on the cream regency settee, chatting lightly, and my father was looking grave in his favourite brown leather chesterfield armchair. Alice was perched nervously on the arm of his chair, shooting sappy looks at Jasper who sat nearby, and Mr Stanley and Jessica stood as if ready to pounce at any moment.

Taking in the unpalatable scene, framed perfectly by the chintz curtains that epitomised this small town, I almost turned around and went out again, only being kept in my place by Bella's steady presence at my side.

Mr Swan looked up sharply from his matching armchair and asked Bella where she had been, and she stammered for a moment, eventually placating him with a vague answer. I noticed that she declined to mention any details of our absence so I decided to follow her lead, adding nothing when he looked suspiciously in my direction.

My mother looked shrewdly at Bella, seeming to realise that she was being evasive, and turned to me for answers. I just shrugged and shook my head, worried the expression on my face would give us away. She let it drop, but I knew that her mind was still whirring, trying to explain our sudden disappearance.

To my annoyance, Jessica seemed delighted by my return and attached herself once more to me, hanging onto my arm like a limpet and laughing shrilly at the most banal of comments. Trying unsuccessfully to shake her off, I resigned myself to her company and listened unenthusiastically for several minutes to her description of the trimmings she would use to accessorise her new hat.

I glanced across the room, desperately looking for an escape, and saw Bella trying to catch my eye as she was dragged into conversation with the exceptionally dull Mr Stanley. She made a face at me and I struggled not to laugh, indicating that I, too, was trapped.

Jessica jabbered on for some time, occasionally pausing to run her hand up my arm gently or brush a speck of lint from my jacket. I essentially tuned her out unless a specific reply was necessary; most of the time she just seemed content to have a captive audience.

After one particularly bad joke on her part, she shrieked with mirth and barrelled into me, shaking with laughter as she buried her face in my shoulder. I looked up in time to see Bella stalking towards me, a murderous look on her face directed at the oblivious girl that was just composing herself after her fit of hysterics.

"Excuse me," Bella interrupted and I welcomed her intervention, my eyes conveying my gratitude to her in a look. She plastered an overly sweet smile on her face, although her eyes glinted dangerously, and leaned into Jessica to ask her in a stage whisper, "Do you mind if I borrow Edward for a while? I need his help with something in the kitchen."

Before Jessica had a chance to answer, Bella took a firm hold on my arm and yanked me into the hall with her, not stopping until we were out of sight and earshot of the party in the front room.

"That girl really gets on my nerves," she muttered, releasing my arm and straightening my jacket apologetically.

"Jessica?" I clarified, slightly bemused. "She wasn't even talking to you."

"She didn't have to be," Bella responded shaking her head. "Didn't you notice the way she was acting so coquettishly, laughing too loudly at your jokes and using any excuse to touch you? She was so obvious," she spat, her face twisting in outrage.

"Are you jealous?" I asked her, amusement colouring my tone, and she scoffed, brushing me off.

"You are adorable when you're jealous," I told her, gathering her in my arms and kissing the top of her head. "And you have nothing to worry about. Nobody could entice me away from you."

She relaxed slightly into my chest but still grimaced uncertainly, lifting her face to read mine.

"Don't you believe me?" I teased her as I leaned down, capturing her lips with mine and she softened still further, bringing up one hand to wind round my neck. My heart jumped in my chest and I ran my hand up to the centre of her back so that I could pull her still closer, trying to mould her to the shape of my body. There was nothing I had felt in my life that could compare to the feeling of kissing Bella, of holding her close to me, and I judged that there was nowhere I could feel more comfortable than in her embrace.

The sound of movement in the front room broke us apart and Bella disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me standing in the hallway when my parents, Mr Swan and the Stanleys filed out towards the front door.

"Thank you so much for coming," my mother said, smiling amicably at her guests, and my father proceeded to shake the hand of every person in the crowd.

Jessica ran to me, looking slightly put out that I had been dragged away form her and simpered sickeningly at me, fluttering her eyelashes in a way that I'm sure she considered alluring. "I'm so pleased we had this time to spend together, Edward," she told me flirtatiously and I smiled briefly back at her.

"I'll miss you when you go away again," she continued, undeterred, "will you write to me?" I muttered something indistinct about a shortage of writing paper, which she seemed to accept albeit with a disappointed pout, and she finally left with her parents, waving hopefully back to me.

"Have you seen Bella?" Mr Swan asked me, scanning the hallway for her, and I had opened my mouth to answer him when she appeared at my side just as suddenly as she had vanished.

"I'm here, Father," she called and threw me a hasty smile in farewell before she joined him and helped him with his coat. Slipping into her own while I stood glued to the spot she thanked my mother profusely for her hospitality and led Mr Swan out into the cold with only a quick glance thrown back at me.

I watched her as she walked away, splinters of loneliness shooting through me as her slight figure moved out of my sight. I never wanted to let her go and considered chasing after her right now, but my more practical side warned me that I could not do this. We both had responsibilities; hers towards her father and mine towards my family and, ultimately, my country.

Our lives were taking us in very different directions and I feared more than anything that they would pull us apart. After years of admiring from afar, I had finally got to legitimately hold her in my arms and I sent up a silent prayer that we would not soon be separated again. She was worth more to me than my own life, but I could not put her at risk in any way.

My father closed the door behind our guests, leaving only Alice and Jasper, and I shook of my ominous thoughts and walked into the front room to find them huddled in a corner, just staring at each other. I was loath to interrupt, preferring to turn a blind eye but felt that an apology was prescribed on my part. Now that I no longer believed that he was trying to string along Bella and Alice, I decided I could try to be friendly towards him so I cleared my throat loudly, breaking them out of their reverie.

They both swivelled their heads to look at me, not moving away from each other, and when I looked down I noticed that their hands were intertwined. Deciding to ignore that fact, I awkwardly began, "Jasper, I feel as if I owe you an apology."

Jasper shook his head but Alice nodded fervently, a small frown creasing her forehead.

"My behaviour towards you was inexcusable and I'm sorry; I should have taken the time to get to know you before I judged you. I would like it if we could start afresh, what do you say?"

Jasper nodded in agreement and stood up, proffering his hand for me to shake.

"I'm Jasper Whitlock. How do you do?"

I smiled at him and his face crumpled into an answering smile, causing Alice to bounce up and down in her seat with satisfaction.

We were soon joined by both my parents, and the next hour saw the five of us talking and laughing together, getting to know each other. I watched him as we conversed, noting the gentle manner he adopted with my sister. She barely took her eyes off his face, smiling adoringly, and his gaze kept sliding back to her no matter how hard he tried to direct it elsewhere. There was a certain warmth and element of comfort to their relationship and when their eyes met briefly, I saw such a look of tenderness on his face that I felt I should look away.

Glancing over at my parents, I saw that it had not gone unnoticed with them either, and they exchanged a secret smile next to the young lovers. Suddenly, I felt very alone and wished that I had asked Bella to stay, but resolved against running off to find her. I felt that I owed this to Alice; I wanted to be reasonable and to give Jasper a fair chance as she did seem truly enamoured by him.

The conversation drifted naturally as the time passed, not delving deeply into any topic but skimming lightly through many in a casual way.

"I hear that you're the local schoolmaster," I remarked to him and he nodded in confirmation, smiling as the talk turned to his work.

"That's right, I love teaching and the children are wonderful to work with. Their energy and enthusiasm are infectious," he joked, and we smiled along with him.

"I'm really going to miss it while I'm away," he went on, and my ears pricked up as I digested the fact that he was planning on disappearing, probably leaving my sister heartbroken behind him.

"Where are you going?" I asked him sharply and he met my gaze, recognition flaring in his eyes.

"Jasper's going to be a soldier," Alice cut in, sniffing slightly, and he patted her hand comfortingly, soothing her with a touch and a gentle smile.

I relaxed slightly as I considered this information; I could not fault him with going away to fight but I could only imagine the effect this would have on Alice. She would be inconsolable if anything were to happen to him, a possibility that I could not dismiss, and I hated to see her upset or distressed.

"When are you leaving?"

"In about a week," he coolly replied, not looking at Alice as she bit her lip beside him. I was affected by the way he seemed genuinely moved by the thought of being away from her, and slowly I was forming the conclusion that this was a man who could be trusted.

"I'm really a pacifist," he informed me detachedly, "but I feel that I cannot sit here while other men risk their lives in this war. It is our collective responsibility, and I must be a part of it."

I was impressed by his honesty and sense of justice, and decided that Alice could do a lot worse. Of course, I would have to keep an eye on him; he was still several years older than her and she was innocent and guileless, but I would not spend too many sleepless nights worrying about her with him.

When the time came for him to depart, I heartily shook his hand and shared a smile with him: one of two men who had a common goal and purpose. We were the last to leave the room and as we did he murmured to me, "I, too, have a younger sister back in Texas so I understand how you feel. Just know that I would never do anything to hurt Alice, you can be sure of that."

With those words, he left, courteously thanking my mother and father for the lunch and coffee and politely and warmly taking his leave of Alice. He turned and ducked his curly blond head as he left, his manners impeccable as always. My lasting impression of him was one of a man who was hardworking, just and dependable, one in whom I could trust without fear of being let down.

I was reluctant to admit it but he had impressed me, and when it came to my little sister, that was not easy to do.

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**OK, so we had a bit of Alice/Jasper love in this chapter as well. What did you think? **

**Don't forget, I really want 100 reviews - although I wouldn't say no to 200 or 300 if you guys feel up to it ;)**

**Thank you!**

**RosieWilde**


	13. How Sleep The Brave

**Thank you for your brilliant response to the last chapter! You guys are amazing. I now have 113 reviews and I'm very proud of them :)**

**This chapter is for everyone who leaves me these exquisite reviews, because I love you. xx**

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How Sleep The Brave

**BPOV**

I found it almost impossible to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning in my bed so that my limbs became entangled in the sheets and I was forced to lie still, twisted into a heap on the mattress. Even then my mind was racing, sifting through the events of the day and re-analysing them, hoping to find some hidden meaning or implication that I hadn't picked up on before.

Edward's words were whirring round my brain, making me feel dizzy and lightheaded. _I love you, Bella, _his voice whispered to me and my subconscious replied with one of his own lines. _I don't deserve you_. It was true, I didn't; looking at the two of us together, anyone would think that I was just his unattractive cousin or some lonely girl he was taking pity on.

_You don't see yourself very clearly_, my subconscious berated me and I sighed fractiously. He continued to murmur in my ear, his velvet voice soothing and lulling me into a semi-conscious state, just listening to his voice swirling round and round in my head.

_I thought about you every moment … every moment … I love you, Bella … I love you …_

When I awoke several hours later, it was still dark outside and I lay still for a moment, feeling disoriented and unable to name what had woken me. Realising that I was wide awake and unable to get back to sleep I threw off my covers in disgust and leapt out of bed, taking instead to pacing back and forth in my small bedroom.

As I passed the window I was startled to see a lone figure standing on the other side of the road, facing in this direction. Leaning closer to the icy panes and peering through the inky blackness, I discerned that it was Edward, standing in the street in the early hours of the morning with a blank look on his face.

I watched him in shock for a moment but he did not move and just maintained his empty stare that sent chills through me, although I could discern no reason why it should. This was _Edward_; there was no reason for me to be afraid.

I turned away from the window briefly, grabbing the nearest pair of shoes I could find and slipping them on under my billowing white nightgown. Creeping down the stairs, taking care to minimise the treacherous creaks of the floorboards that might alert my father, I slipped on my coat in the hall and ran out into the cold night air.

It must have been around two in the morning as there was a smothering hush settled over the street, muffling the noise of anything but my echoing footsteps on the smooth surface of the road. As soon as I left the protection of my porch, the darkness settled on me like a mantle, cloaking me and making everything look different, alien.

The lines of Edward's face were more defined, sharper as his face was thrown into unnatural shadow by the scintillating moonlight slicing through the clouds, and the sight made me catch my breath. He looked heartbreakingly beautiful but at the same time completely terrifying: dangerous and unfamiliar. He was still standing as I had seen him from the window, arms by his sides and feet planted solidly on the ground, staring straight ahead as if he were seeing something quite apart from the quiet street.

I noticed that he was still fully dressed in the clothes he had been wearing earlier that day, his crisp white shirt now crumpled and hanging loose on his shoulders. He had discarded his waistcoat but slung his coat on instead as defence against the cold, but for some reason I felt that this excursion was not premeditated.

He didn't look up as I neared him, although he must have heard my approach, and I came to a sudden stop right in front of him, gazing up anxiously into his expressionless face.

"Edward?" I whispered tentatively, painfully aware of the way my voice cut through the silence and stillness. His eyes snapped up to my face as if he had just noticed my presence and I was shocked to read the panic and torment in their emerald depths.

My hand reached up to stroke his cheek, tracing the aberrant silhouette and savouring the feel of his satin skin against mine. Scrutinising his expression, I held eye contact with him, even though it almost made me flinch to witness his pain like this. "What's wrong?" I breathed, fear and concern saturating my voice as the tips of my fingers grazed his cheekbone.

He reached out to embrace me and I went willingly to him, seeking the comfort that only he could give me in his strong arms. Resting my head to his chest so that I could listen to his steady heartbeat, I felt him bury his face in my hair, inhaling deeply and wrapping his arms more tightly around me.

His touch reassured me a little but my consternation increased again when I heard him muffle a sob in my hair, alarm flooding quickly through me.

"Edward, please tell me what's wrong," I begged him, holding him securely to myself so that he could feel my love and support radiating from me, as I felt his.

He lifted his head from mine and sought my eyes again; they were filled with dread and fear, mirroring that which I knew to be showing in my own as I looked at him.

"Bella, I'm so afraid," he whispered, his husky voice barely causing a disturbance to the hush of pre-dawn. I bit my lip, lifting one hand again to trace the planes of his face, smoothing away the lines that appeared when he frowned.

"What are you frightened of, Edward?" I asked him almost noiselessly, running my thumb lightly over his cheekbones, causing him to close his eyes, then over his eyelids.

"I'm scared of leaving you," he breathed, his face creasing up again in agony and causing a knife to twist in my own heart at the expression on my face.

"Don't be afraid," I murmured, trying to comfort him with my low voice and soft touch. "I can look after myself. You don't need to worry about me."

At this he opened his eyes, rolling them with the hint of a lifeless smile on his lips, and pulling me closer so that our faces were only inches apart. "You know I will, though. But that's not what I meant." His face was instantly serious again as he stared directly into my eyes, holding my gaze so that I could not so much as blink, let alone look away.

His countenance seemed hollow, empty as if reliving some past pain that I could not share, and when he next spoke, his voice was brimming with agony. "Bella, I've seen men die. I've witnessed a fellow soldier blown to pieces right before my eyes. He had a home, a family, people who care about him. I've seen what it's like and it's too dangerous; I can't have any of those."

I just gaped at him, uncomprehending as he continued tortuously, "I can't let that happen to me, Bella. I can't die knowing that I've left behind people who will miss me, grieve for me. I have to cut the ties, for their sake as well as mine. I could never be that selfish," he finished, his voice dying away into the stillness of the night, rebuilding the barriers between us that had just been dissolved.

Slowly, what he was saying began to sink into my clouded mind and horror shot through me, but I still struggled to understand the implications of his words. Panic twisted my words and made my tone harsh and cutting. "What are you saying, Edward? Don't you want us to be together?"

Unmasked pain shot across his face at my sharp tone and I winced as I looked into his eyes, which almost seemed to be bleeding with the emotion he was feeling. "I can't," he breathed. "I can't be with you. I'm not free. I'm bound to this war and it will get me in the end. It always does."

The despair and anguish in his voice terrified me more than anything else he had told me, more even than the most horrific war stories boasted by the local gossips to anyone who would listen. His utter hopelessness washed through me but I refused to let it overtake me, fighting desperately to keep my head above water.

"No, Edward! Never say that. You're going to be fine, you have to believe that."

His empty eyes gazed down at me and it almost seemed I could see pity glinting behind the loss.

"Oh, Bella, how can I leave you?" he breathed softly, as if to himself, and his surprisingly cold fingers stroked tenderly down my cheek. "But I have to," he continued, practically inaudibly, "I can't be so selfish."

My mind was screaming '_no! No!' _as loud as it possibly could and as the abject despair washed through me, I began to feel myself fall apart. A gaping hole widened in my chest and every breath felt like it was tearing me apart as the ties holding me together weakened in my anguish.

He bent down and pressed his lips hard to mine, crushing them under the force of his kiss and winding his free arm ever tighter around my waist. His lips were rushed as if he was trying to squeeze every lost minute into one, making up for wasted years and our squandered future.

Eventually he prised himself out of my grip and turned to walk away, but not before taking one final look at my face, scanning it as if to memorise it for future reference. My breath froze in my lungs and I found myself paralysed, stuck to the road as if I were cast in marble, an effigy that would never grow old for him, never change.

He began to walk back towards his house and still I could not move although in my head I was screaming for him not to go, not to leave me here without him. I could feel my body collapsing inwards, folding in on myself as I contemplated life without him and I began to hyperventilate, each breath sending a knife through my fragile chest. My body and my mind were warring, one wanting to fight and the other to crumple and admit defeat.

Then, suddenly, my mind won out and I wrenched myself free of the bonds holding me, the lightheadedness not hindering me as I easily caught up with him as he trudged away, his shoulders slumped and his expression dead.

I threw myself in front of him and caught onto his shoulders, grabbing his chin to force him to look at me. "Edward!" I shouted, refusing to let the hysteria I felt seep into my voice. "No! You don't have to do this."

He shrugged himself out of my grip and twisted his head away, answering me in an emotionless voice, "Yes I do, Bella. We've discussed this."

"We have not," I insisted determinedly. "You have simply informed me what you plan to do. I, however, have yet to fill you in on my course of action." The sarcasm was easier than facing the reality of his statement, the reality that he might leave and not come back, so I clung to it desperately.

"And what would that be?" he asked disinterestedly, his mind clearly already made up as he waited for my response.

"My plan is simple. I refuse to let you go. You won't do any self-sacrificing for me, not if I have a say."

He still wouldn't look at me so I pressed harder, waiting for him to crack.

"I _know_ that you love me. And know that I love you too, more than I can say. We cannot let that go to waste, let it pass us by. Edward, we are only young once; don't throw this chance away. I love you," I pleaded, moisture starting to build up in my eyes as I realised that I was running out of arguments and his jaw was still set resolutely.

I heard him heave in a rather shaky breath and leaned closer to him, burying my face in his shoulder and inhaling the scent that would always be synonymous with Edward. "I love you," I sobbed quietly, clutching at his jacket in a pitiful last-ditch attempt to stop him leaving.

He cleared his throat and I looked up to see him watching me, his green eyes fathomless in depth and darker than usual as they captured mine. Slowly, he lifted a trembling hand and moulded it to my cheek, using his rough thumb to gently wipe away the tears that overflowed from my eyes.

"I love you, Bella," he murmured, quiet as the wind that hushed softly in the branches of the trees above, and I smiled weakly at him through my tears.

"I love you too," I breathed and he smiled a ghost of that crooked smile I loved. "Promise me you won't forget about us," I continued earnestly. "Promise me you won't cut yourself off from you family and friends who love you. Promise me you won't forget about me."

He brought his face closer to mine and his sweet breath washed over me, making me lift up on my toes so that we were a mere inch apart. "I won't," he vowed. "Bella, I could never forget you. You are like a part of myself."

His face crept still closer and my lips parted a little, my tongue darting out to moisten them. I saw Edward's eyes follow its progress and he finally leaned down, closing the gap between us and pressing his lips to mine.

At first he was gentle, caressing my lips with his, but then something seemed to overtake him and he wrapped his arms tightly around me, pressing closer and running his tongue along my top lip. I gasped and his tongue slid further into my mouth, dancing on mine and causing me to push my hands into his hair and clutch him still nearer to me, my heart rate increasing until it sounded like it was trying to break out of my chest.

Edward's fingers traced slowly down my spine, making me shiver in his embrace, and I felt him smile through our kiss. I wound my fingers in the short hair at the nape of his neck and sighed into his mouth, just before his lips softened on mine and he began to pull away. I didn't fight him as he lifted his face from mine, although I felt I could lose myself in his kiss forever. We just stared at each other, marvelling in the glow and warmth we had produced between us.

Edward took a step away from me, towards my house, but kept his arm looped round my waist so that I was pulled along with him. We walked slowly side by side and I rested my head on his shoulder, content just to be in his arms. His gaze remained locked on me, only looking away to open my front door and pull me up the stairs.

Pushing open the door to my bedroom, which he must have remembered from many a childhood playtime, he walked over to the bed, holding back the sheets for me to climb in. I kicked off my shoes and slipped out of my coat and he took it from me, hanging it over his arm as he tucked me in among the sheets and blankets.

My eyes sought his and I was overwhelmed by the love and tenderness I saw in them as he bent down to kiss my forehead, smoothing the covers around me as he did so.

"Edward?" I whispered, clutching the hand that was raised to brush a strand hair out of my eye.

"Yes, Bella?" he murmured and his scent washed over me when he spoke.

"Will you stay with me? Please?"

His face looked torn as he wrangled with his better judgement and I held my breath hopefully. After a moment, he turned and draped my coat and his neatly over my chair, slipping off his shoes next to mine and sitting on the bed beside me. I tugged on his arm and pulled him closer to me so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard, my head resting on his lap. He stroked my hair gently, teasing out the tangles and smoothing it down on my forehead soothingly.

Gradually I felt my breathing slow and even out and I drifted off to sleep, Edward's velvet voice humming a lullaby to me as I floated off into my dreams.

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**So it was definitely New Moon-esque, but with my own twist. I like a feisty Bella. What about you? Was it good? Bad? Ugly?**

**You know I want to hear about it... GO ON, REVIEW!**


	14. When There Is Peace

**Thank you for the lovely reviews you left me for the last chapter :) You all seemed to like feisty Bella and I have to say, I am glad she didn't let Edward walk away. Good on her!**

**Quick recap:**

**Edward tried to break it off with Bella but she convinced him that he didn't always need to be so self-sacrificing. She asked him to stay with her he complied so she fell asleep snuggled up against him. Sweet or nauseating, whichever works for you ;)**

**Thanks to Cullenista for her invaluable beta skills, as always. **

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When There Is Peace

**EPOV**

Bella drifted quickly off to sleep, her breathing deepening as she snuggled into my chest, her hair fanned out over my lap. I was content to just sit there and watch her sleep, awed that such an angel could desire my presence. She was more than I could ever ask for.

I ran my rough hand through her silky chestnut hair and it's irresistible scent wafted up to greet me, transporting me into a state of calm and perceived well-being that harked back to when we were children. I already knew that the concepts of Bella and Home were unequivocally intertwined for me and now I realised that I had no desire to separate them. I wanted to make my home with Bella, to come back to her after the war and make her my wife, to have children with her and to grow old by her side.

I could see my whole life mapped out before me and my heart swelled with joy, threatening to burst as I contemplated what our future could be. Of course, I did not see why Bella would say 'yes' to me, but for a moment I allowed myself to get carried away in the fantasy of our life together. I would come home to her every day and she would greet me with a kiss, radiant in the doorway of our own house with our young children clutching her skirts. We would share everything we owned and I would wake up next to her every morning, her alluring scent pervading the linens and wafting around me as she slept peacefully in my arms.

Soon, however my rational mind began once again its chorus of doubt and apprehension. I knew that I could not ask Bella to commit to me; could not ask her to give her life to someone who would be risking theirs everyday in the trenches. But when the war was over, when there was peace, I was determined to make her mine. I would spend the rest of my life trying to make her happy if she would take me, if she would accept me, scarred as I was.

Lost in my thoughts and in the sound of Bella's soft breathing, I too found my consciousness being carried away and gave myself to it, setting my mind free to wander as it pleased. My thoughts always returned to Bella who, even in my sleep-fogged mind, I was acutely aware of pressed up against me as she shifted in an attempt to get more comfortable.

I, too, must have moved in my sleep as the next thing I knew, I was slumped in the bed beside Bella, the covers tangling around her as she slept soundly beside me. I was curved protectively around her small body, my larger one holding her to me as if shielding her from the outside world. I wished that I could always protect her, always be her shield but I knew that it was not possible from across the ocean. At least I could assume she would be safe here in Forks.

My arm that was slung aimlessly around her waist seemed to, of its own accord, trace up hers and over her shoulder, running my fingers along the definition of her collarbone that peeked out from her nightgown. Her beautiful mahogany tresses, loose and flowing over the crisp pillowcase, captivated me and I ran them through my fingers in awe as I listened to her breathing.

Outside, dawn was breaking and I revelled in the sweet stillness of the early morning, enjoying the flush of sunrise stroking Bella's soft cheeks. I held my breath, hoping to capture the stolen moment and savour it, making it last through the months and possibly years to come until I could wake up next to Bella once again.

I had to leave that day to return to the front; I had received a telegram the afternoon before urgently recalling me for a big push and I knew that I had no choice but to obey. To do otherwise was to risk the firing squad and I would do anything rather than make Bella ashamed of me, rather than bring humiliation on those I loved.

Torn between the need to remain here with Bella and the desire to avoid being caught in her bed, I indecisively stayed, holding her close in my arms as she slept, until I could begin to hear the clatter and noise from the neighbouring houses signalling that the street was starting to wake. Fighting every one of my strongest impulses, I pulled myself away from Bella and slid out of her bed, pausing by her pillow to gaze down at her in utter awe and wonder. She was so perfect, so breathtaking as she slept that I almost made up my mind to never leave her side, no matter what the consequences would be.

Creeping over to her desk against the opposite wall, I rooted through the drawers until I emerged with a sheet of paper onto which I quickly scribbled a few brief lines. They were not nearly enough to express everything I needed to say to her, but they would have to do for now. Tiptoeing back over to the bed, I slipped the folded page into her curled fingers, hoping that she would find it when she woke.

Bella sighed gently in her sleep and shifted slightly, rolling so that she was lying on her back, the covers tangled delightfully around her delicate body. I bent down and stroked her hair away from her face, softly brushing my lips to her forehead before pulling back to take one last look at her sleeping face. I then turned away determinedly and pushed open the window, slipping through and shimmying down the tree as I had done so many times as a child.

The street was still fairly quiet; the chirping of birds and the clatter of early risers from open windows were the only sounds that accompanied me as I pushed open my front door and quietly scaled the stairs. I could distinguish my father's snores coming from my parents' room and, putting my ear to Alice's, I could make out the deep, even breaths that meant she was sleeping.

Relieved that I had not been caught sneaking out, I tiptoed into my room and changed out of the clothes I had been wearing since yesterday, messing up the bed so it looked like I'd been sleeping in it.

When I was done, I sank into a chair and rested my head in my hands, suddenly overtaken by the enormity of what I had done. I had agreed to stay with Bella, to have a relationship with her, despite my better judgement and now we would both have to deal with the consequences. I had to catch a train to go back to the front this very evening and I could not face leaving Bella behind. She would haunt my every thought, I knew, until I could see her again and hold her in my arms.

I leaned slowly back in the chair and rested my head against the wall behind me, exhaling loudly, my mind whirring. I had come to realise that, now I had finally admitted my feelings for her, I could never be content with anything less than her hand in mine, her face lighting up in a beautiful smile as I gazed at her. I needed to let her know how I felt, so that when I was away she would never doubt my love for her.

Struck by a flash of inspiration, I leapt out of my chair and began rooting through my dresser, turning the drawers out in my search.

**BPOV**

It took me a few minutes when I woke to work out why I felt alone, why it felt as though something was missing. Soon, however, I remembered falling asleep with Edward's arms around me, my head resting on his lap and the feel of his gentle hands stroking my hair.

I sighed when I looked around and realised that he was nowhere to be seen, but reasoned that he would have had to go home before the whole street woke up. I definitely didn't want to be the centre of a scandal that would be quickly spread by Mrs Stanley and her croniesthrough the whole of Forks.

For a moment, though, I wished that he had stayed, no matter what the consequences might be. I could face the gossipmongers, I thought wistfully, and the stares if I had Edward with me. Then, nothing could touch me.

Shaking off the fanciful mood that had overtaken me, I slipped out of bed and to get dressed, rushing so that I could see Edward again sooner. I was surprised when a leaf of crisp paper was shaken out of the bedclothes and fluttered to the floor and so I surveyed it cautiously for a moment as if it could be poisonous.

Finally, I bent down and caught it between my fingers, seeing my name inscribed on the front in Edward's unmistakeable handwriting. I unfurled the page eagerly, feeling like a small child on Christmas morning, finding that Edward had left me a quick note.

_Bella,_

_I'm sorry I had to leave while you're still sleeping but I didn't want to be caught in your room by your father. I'm not sure that I would enjoy his reaction much, especially as I know he has a shotgun hidden somewhere in his bedroom. Do you remember when he so proudly displayed it to us, all shiny and new, last spring?_

_Yesterday afternoon I received a telegram from my commander saying that I was to return to the frontline as soon as possible. I am taking the train from here late this afternoon and then I'll go the rest of the way on one of the supply ships. I'm sorry that I have to leave you soon; if it were my choice I would never go back._

_I would really like to see you again before I leave; if you want to see me too then I'll wait for you at my house. I really hope you come._

_I love you,_

_Edward_

By the end of the note I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Sometimes I had no idea what was going on in Edward's head; how could he believe I would even think twice about going to see him? Since I had woken up only a few minutes before, I had been practically counting down the seconds until I could feel him against me again.

I was crushed, however, that he was planning to return to France so soon. He had only been home for a few days and we had hardly had any time together. It felt especially cruel to snatch him from me so soon after he had told me he loved me and I as I dressed I mentally cursed the war, the generals, the entire German race for taking him away from me.

Racing down the stairs, I caught my foot on the hem of my skirt and nearly went flying down the steps, only catching hold of the banister to stop myself at the last minute. I smiled wryly as I brushed myself down and whirled round the kitchen preparing breakfast, vaguely remarking that I had not been this enthusiastic, and therefore clumsy, in some time. If I pretended that this evening would never come, I found that I was hugely excited at the opportunity to spend several more hours with Edward. Hopefully, we could find some time to be alone.

I set the table just in time for my father to amble downstairs, looking rested and cheerful as he plonked himself down at the table.

"Morning, Bella," he greeted me with a smile and I beamed in satisfaction at the improvement in his health and spirits.

"Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, yes," he replied airily, brushing me off dismissively and I bit my lip to hide my grin. That was so like my father, unwilling to admit weakness or accept any help. That was so like me, actually, I recognised.

"Do you have plans for today?" he asked me and I shook my head, shrugging slightly.

"Nothing in particular. Why, do you need anything?"

"No, I was just wondering if you would be alright while I go fishing with Edward. He's found this great spot where the fish are really biting, but I don't want to leave you alone all day."

"Don't worry about me," I assured him. "I might go over to the Masens' and spend some time there." I decided to leave out the part about hoping to spend most of the time in Edwards' arms, deciding that my father's heart might not be up to hearing that.

He perked up at hearing that I would be visiting the Masens and asked interestedly, "Do you think you'll be seeing Alice? It's been a while since she's spent much time round here." He looked morose for a moment and I rolled my eyes surreptitiously when he was busy with his breakfast. In his eyes, Alice could do no wrong and he looked forward to her stopping by with considerable enthusiasm.

"Yes, I'm sure she'll be there," I told him, trying not to let my indulgent amusement creep into my voice. "I'll ask her when she's next planning to visit, shall I?"

"No, no, don't bother with that," he huffed and took a large mouthful, preventing further conversation for a few moments.

"Where is this miracle fishing spot, then?" I asked him as we ate companionably and he replied,

"A few miles out of town, by the bend in the river. Edward swears it's the best haul he's ever got."

"A few miles? Father, are you sure you're going to manage that?"

"Yes, Bella, I'll be fine," he grumbled, almost like a small child, and once again I was forced to hide my smile. "You shouldn't baby me so."

"I'm sorry," I told him genuinely, hiding my concern behind a warm smile. "I just worry about you, that's all. The winter hasn't been so good to you."

"I know, Bells, I know, but I'm much better now. In fact, I haven't felt so good in years. You take good care of me, you know."

I smiled gratefully at him and felt a blush start to creep across my face, causing me to leap up and busy myself with the clearing up. He watched me with an amused look on his face and I refused to meet his eye until the kitchen was spotless and the crockery was gleaming.

I rounded to face him and asked, "Do you need anything for your trip? A sandwich?"

"No, no," he waved his hand again as he heaved himself from the chair and headed out of the door. "Elizabeth is taking care of everything."

I watched him go, forcing down the instinctive concern that emerged when he talked of exerting himself in any way. I could not deny, however, the fact that his face and attitude were brighter than I had seen them in months.

Racing upstairs, I brushed my hair and pulled it back into a braid which snaked down my head and over my shoulder, snatching a quick glance in the mirror before running out of the door. I was hardly a beauty but I had no time to worry about such things now; I had only a few hours left with Edward before he had to board the train that would take him far from me.

Walking down the street as fast as I could reasonably justify, I soon arrived at the gate to the Masens' front garden. Having waved with affected enthusiasm at Mrs Crowley as she walked her dogs, I made my way up the path and knocked cautiously on the door.

It was wrenched open almost immediately by Edward who looked rather flushed and was still clutching a piece of toast in his left hand. For a moment or two I just stared at him, taking in everything about him, dumbfounded by his perfection. He, too, didn't move and I would almost have thought he was doing the same thing, had it not been for the fact that I was far from awe-inspiring.

Eventually, I shook off my paralysis and took a step towards him, my eyes locked with his as I closed the gap between us. At that moment, however, a small Alice-shaped blur came barrelling past Edward and collided with me, wrapping its arms securely round my waist. Slightly taken aback, I gasped, winded, and Edward fell into a fit of laughter at the expression on my face.

"I love you, Bella," Alice squealed and, having regained the ability to breathe, I hugged her back and laughed along with Edward. "You are the best!" she shrieked, her wiry arms constricting my movement and I patted her head awkwardly while she squeezed the life out of me.

"I am pretty amazing," I agreed dryly, "but is there any particular reason for my brilliance this morning?"

"You did it! The impossible. You got Edward and Jasper to be friends," she told me happily and my head shot up to meet Edward's gaze. I raised my eyebrows questioningly and he rolled his eyes, which I took as confirmation enough.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she chanted and I stood stunned while she danced jubilantly around me.

"You're welcome," I mumbled, unable to tear my eyes away from Edward's face as he grimaced slightly.

"It's true, isn't it Edward?" Alice pressed, skipping over to him and looking up at his face expectantly.

"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly, Alice," he said uncomfortably. "I mean, I'm still not sure I trust the man. Besides, you're too young to have an admirer," he finished disapprovingly, frowning down at her.

"I'm not that much younger than you," she replied cannily, her eyes darting to me as she surveyed the two of us shrewdly where we stood on the threshold. I blushed, instantly betraying my guilt, and she raised one eyebrow sagaciously as I stammered and spluttered.

Edward frowned warningly at Alice and turned to address me, gesturing for me to follow him into the house. "Don't mind Alice," he told me, loudly enough for her to hear as she came back inside and closed the door on the street. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. Let's go and sit in the front room."

"Whatever you say." She shrugged lightly and tossed back over her shoulder, "I'll be upstairs if you need me," stifling a giggle as she went.

Edward took my hand and led me to the settee, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap. I leant into his chest, burying my face in his neck and asked in a small voice, "How does Alice know?"

I felt him sigh and reach up his hand to his head, presumably to run his hand through his hair that was just starting to grow back after the trenches. "I'm not sure," he finally admitted. "She's very observant and she seems to almost have a sixth sense when it comes to this kind of thing. You can't keep a secret from Alice," he warned me wryly and lifted up my hand to place a kiss on my palm.

I curled my fingers around his neck, relishing the contact, and pulled my face back to look at his expression. He seemed almost amused but his smile was flecked with noticeable irritation at his sister's perceptiveness.

"Will she tell your parents?" I whispered and I felt him sigh again.

"I don't know. She might."

I moaned and hid my face in my hands, shaking my head in apprehension.

"Would that be so bad?" he asked, sounding hurt, and I quickly glanced up, backtracking to erase the wounded look on his face.

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Of course it wouldn't be _bad,_ it's just not the way I'd like them to find out. I'd rather keep this to ourselves for the time being," I pleaded, knowing that if he kept up that pained expression I would shout to the world that we were in love. Thankfully, his injured expression dissolved and he pressed his lips to my forehead, cradling my face in his hands.

Relieved that I was forgiven, I relaxed into his embrace and ran my hands down his neck and across his shoulders, the tips of my fingers tracing the muscle definition in his arms. He moved away from my forehead and tilted my head up so that we were eye to eye, his gaze smouldering as he inched his face closer to mine.

My breathing hitched and my eyes fluttered closed as I waited for our lips to meet, but when the expected contact did not come, I opened my eyes in confusion. I gasped when I saw that Edward's face was less than an inch from mine, a beautiful smirk playing across his features. He chuckled at my reaction, his eyes bright with mirth and a certain longing.

Gazing at his beautiful face, something in me snapped and I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him down so I could crush my lips against his. At first he seemed surprised, but he soon pulled me closer and ran his fingers up my back, sending tingles down my spine. When he reached my shoulder blade, he traced patterns onto the skin of my neck with the tip of his finger and I shivered, pressing myself tighter to his chest. His hand trailed up from my neck to my hair, running his fingers down the rushed braid to the ribbon that secured it at the bottom. With a quick tug, he pulled it undone and my hair fell free, tumbling over my shoulders as it unravelled. With teasingly slow movements, he let the dark brown waves flow through his fingers and I melted into his arms, no longer able to support my own body.

Pulling away from my lips, Edward nuzzled underneath my chin and began pressing soft kisses to my throat causing my eyes to drift closed as my arms tightened round his neck. He worked his way from the base of my throat, slowly up the side of my neck and up to my jaw, trailing his lips up to my ear behind which he placed a final kiss.

When he lifted his head to meet my eye, we were both breathing hard and his eyes seemed to be gentler and yet more insistent than I had ever seen them before. I could hear my heart thundering in my chest and his was doing the same, racing as if he had just run a marathon. Carefully, so as not to lose my balance, I shifted so that I was resting my head against his chest, my ear pressed to the spot from which I could hear the pounding of his heart.

His hand swept the hair from the back of my neck and he rested his hand there, cushioning my neck as I listened to his slowing heartbeat. Gradually, our breathing returned to normal and I slid off his lap, deciding that distance might be helpful for what I was about to say.

His eyes searched mine questioningly and I bit my lip, unsure how to broach the subject. The truth was, I had spent much of last night and this morning thinking and I had finally reached a conclusion. An ocean couldn't separate me from him; it just couldn't, I wouldn't allow it, so I would follow him to France. I was practically going insane being stuck in Forks, chained to my role as a respectable young woman, completely unable to do anything of use.

I needed an occupation, something I could do to make me feel that I was needed, that I had a use or a purpose. If Edward would fight for his country then the least I could do was volunteer my services. And so, it had been decided. I would proffer myself as a nurse and work near the front line. I had to do something and this seemed like the perfect solution; I simply couldn't sit here and worry any longer.

The only problem with this plan was my father and his health and I knew that this could be the obstacle that stopped me from going. If he was declining then I knew I would never leave, no matter how much I wanted to, as I could no more abandon him than give up on Edward. It was to my delight and relief, therefore, that he seemed to be in great spirits and recovered health, and this gave me hope that I could perhaps fulfil my ambition after all. The Masens would look after him when I was gone, I was sure.

The only thing that remained was telling Edward.

Standing in front of him where he sat, I squared my shoulders, taking a deep breath, and he looked up at me warily.

"Bella, what's going on?" he asked cautiously and I suddenly found my courage and my voice.

"Edward, I have something to tell you." His earnest eyes encouraged me to continue and so I went on, "I am going to train to be a nurse."

"A nurse?" he asked bemused. "But, Bella, you hate the smell of blood."

He spoke as if he were explaining something very simple to a child and that immediately riled me.

"That may be, but I will find some way to be of service. You would be surprised what I can endure; you should not underestimate me." His eyes shifted apologetically but I didn't give him a chance to interject and continued, "I want to go to the front line."

At this his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in what I could only assume to be abject horror, seeming to be unable to form words. Taking advantage of his sudden silence, I pressed on, "Maybe if I'm nearby then we can see each other more often. I would do anything to be near you," I finished quietly, begging him to understand.

"You would risk your life to be near me?" he croaked and I only nodded mutely, not looking at his face.

He spluttered for a few moments longer before finally exploding, his voice shocking me with the fear and anger I heard in it.

"Bella, have you lost your mind?" he practically shouted and I flinched away from him. "You can't go to the front line. Do you even know what you're asking for?"

I just stood there in front of him, cowering as he continued to vent, afraid to look up in case I should see steam pouring from his ears or rage blazing in his eyes.

"I won't let you go!" he yelled, panicking now, and my eyes snapped up to meet his as they darted frantically over the room.

"Won't _let_ me?" I asked dangerously calmly but he did not seem to sense the warning in my voice.

"I won't let you. I can't, I can't." He almost sounded as if he was raving now but I was too aggravated to care.

"You have no right to decide what I do or don't do," I informed him coldly and he looked horrified at the callous tone in my voice. I shut down all my instincts, all my impulses to placate him, tell him that I would do exactly as he asked, and focused only on consolidating my point. "I can do whatever I please and I shall not allow you to dictate my actions."

He dropped his head into his hands and I immediately regretted my harshness, dropping down onto the settee beside him and resting one hand tentatively on his shoulder. Softening my voice so that it was kind and yet still firm I told him, "I'm not a child anymore, Edward. I don't always need you to protect me. I can look after myself."

He moaned slightly and buried his head further into his palms, taking a deep breath as if he would say something. I cut him off, however, before he could get the words out. "I'm not asking for your permission, Edward, but I would like your support. Can you give me that?"

For a while he did not move and I sat motionless next to him, holding my breath in anticipation of his reaction. Eventually, he lifted his head and looked straight at me, meeting my gaze with disarming honesty and sincerity.

"If you are decided, Bella, then I will support you," he said slowly, almost as if he wished that he could postpone his realisation of what he was saying. I smiled gratefully at him but before I had the chance to say anything, he put up his hand to stop me. "However, I strongly advise you to reconsider. You can't imagine what it is like to be surrounded by death and suffering all the time. I would not wish that on anyone, least of all you, Bella. I just wish that you could stay here forever, sheltered and happy." He reached out to take my hand, his piercing green eyes softening as they captured mine.

"But Edward," I insisted, needing him to understand, "I'm not happy. I may be safe but I'm going mad trapped here, useless and oblivious. I've never been one to chain myself to the kitchen sink and you know that. I need to do something and if I become a nurse then I also get to be closer to you. I'm happy when I'm with you."

He stared into my eyes desperately for a while longer, as if trying to deter me with a look alone, but he finally admitted defeat and sighed deeply.

"You're sure?" he asked, although his face clearly portrayed that he already knew the answer to that. I didn't answer but only nodded sadly, cupping my palm to his cheek in a feeble attempt to wipe away the sorrow that was etched there. He gave me a small smile and I brought my face closer to his, gently kissing all around his cheeks and eyes, brushing each eyelid with my lips in its turn. When I was done, he sighed again gently and our eyes locked, neither of us wanting to look away.

I don't know how much time had passed when he broke away, thrusting his hand into his trouser pocket and pulling it out clutched into a fist.

"I have something I would like to give you," he murmured softly and when his eyes met mine they were soft and warm again with only a hint of sadness betraying the conversation that had just passed between us.

I said nothing and only looked at him in confusion, not understanding what he could be referring to.

He uncurled his palm and I peered curiously at what he held, still barely comprehending what he meant. Reaching out one finger, he looped it through what I now realised was a silver chain and lifted it into the air, displaying a small silver cross on a chain. I frowned in bewilderment, uncomprehending of why he would want to give anything to me.

"It's beautiful," I offered, and I suddenly realised that it was as it swung from his finger, arresting in its simplicity and elegance.

Seeing my obvious bafflement, Edward explained in a low voice, "This was my grandmother's. Do you remember when she died, almost ten years ago now?" I nodded and he continued, "She left it to me in her will and it still reminds me of her; she would wear it always. It was given to her by my grandfather when they were young." He paused briefly, as if lost in the memory. "I want you to have it," he breathed, his emerald eyes boring into mine and holding me in position in the way that a mere look from him could.

"For me?" I whispered uncertainly, reaching out a finger to stroke the delicate chain as it swung slightly in midair.

"For you," he confirmed, leaning closer so that we were only a few inches apart. "I want you to have something to remember me by. Something to make you think of me when I'm away."

"Edward, I don't need anything to remind me of you," I scoffed but he put one finger to my lips to stop me.

"Please?" he asked, and I melted under his unbearably gentle gaze. "Will you wear it for me?"

"Of course I will," I assured him and he positively glowed, his face lighting up in a breathtaking smile.

Gesturing for me to stand up, he turned me gently by the shoulders and stood behind me, reaching over to lay the chain around my neck. I watched in awe as he fastened the catch, his hand brushing against my jaw and collarbone and lingering at the nape of my neck long after he secured it. Lifting the small cross I admired its beauty, watching the silver engravings dance in the sunlight through the window so it almost seemed to sparkle in the light as I moved.

When he spoke again, his voice was lower and huskier, sending shivers down my spine. "My grandparents were very happy together; I think that it could bring us luck. They were married for thirty-five years."

"Thank you, Edward," I breathed, incapable of uttering anything further, but it seemed that was all was needed. He leaned into me, wrapping his arms securely round my waist from behind and resting his head on my shoulder so that we were both admiring the cross together.

"It looks beautiful on you," he murmured and I turned my head so that we were nose to nose. Tilting his head, he kissed me tenderly, his lips almost whispering against mine, telling their own story. There was no further need for words or explanations, no compulsion to speak or listen. We were only there, with one another, and I knew that there was no place I would rather be. When there was peace, I promised myself, I would never leave his arms.

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**You know, you reviewers are starting to become some of my favourite people. Is that sad? Yes, probably, but you make my day :)**

**Go on, leave me some love...**


	15. Gone, Gone Again

**OK, brace yourselves for this AN; it's gonna be a long one.**

**Hey everybody! Thanks for the inspiring comments from the last chapter. I'm really surprised that no-one seemed to guess that Bella would be a nurse but there you go. I can't take any credit for the idea, though, it was all the fabulous Cullenista. We'll see how it works out and then worship or blame her accordingly ;)**

**I try to reply to every review but for those anonymous reviewers who don't get to hear my appreciation, here it is :D I love hearing what you think about my little story!**

**This is it, the chapter we have all (and by that I mean mostly I have) been dreading. Edward has to go back to the front and it's killing me :( It's not my longest chapter (although not my shortest either) but I'm doing well on the next one so I'm planning to post that not long after. Only a couple of days to wait after this. **

**Now, I have a favour to ask. When I was proof reading this, my ipod was on shuffle and it hit on Coldplay's 'The Scientist'. I LOVE that song and I was amazed to find that it worked well with the writing. So, if you wouldn't mind playing it later on in the chapter then I will love you forever (more than I already do)! The link's on my profile and I'll tell you when to start the musical deliciousness playing.**

**That's about it now, I think, but you'll probably hear more from me at the bottom :) Also, a shout out to Monica08 in this chapter for a certain line that she requested. I hope she spots it ;)**

**Right, got your tissue ready?**

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Gone, Gone Again

**EPOV**

My mother clung to my arm in the kitchen, sniffing loudly and dabbing at her eyes with a small lace handkerchief. My few personal items were repacked in my kit bag and I was ready to leave, the train scheduled to depart from the station in half an hour.

I had spent the afternoon with Bella, savouring every moment we had together before we were so cruelly torn apart again. She spent much of the time curled up on my lap and there was no way I would have preferred to spend the afternoon than with her in my arms. The hours had flown by as if in a dream and all too soon it was time to ready myself to depart.

Now I was engaged in the distasteful task of taking my leave of the home I had grown up in, for the second time in less than a year. It seemed to hurt all the more this time, not knowing if I would ever return, as if the wound was still raw when it had been ripped open again. My family were not making the withdrawal any easier and my mother had resorted to attempting to physically restrain me to prevent me from leaving.

A quick glance over her head showed me that my father's face was drawn, gaunt-looking. I knew that he had cut short his fishing trip with Bella's father so that he could spend some time with me before I left and, while I appreciated the gesture, knowing that he cared about me only made it harder to leave. Now he seemed deflated and I hastily averted my eyes; I could not allow myself to feel any pity or guilt or I would never go. I needed to be ruthless.

However, that was no easy task. Alice never took her eyes off me, her lip quivering and her wide eyes collecting pools of moisture that threatened to overflow at any moment. I tried to avoid meeting her gaze as much as possible but my eyes kept being drawn back to her piteous expression as if to a magnet. It was clear I could not just slip away without fuss or ceremony.

Looking at my watch pointedly for the third time in ten minutes I cleared my throat loudly. "I really need to get going now," I told them deliberately but no-one moved. Sighing resignedly, I detached myself from my mother's grasp as gently as I could and bent down to swing my pack over my shoulder. This sparked fresh sobs from my emotional mother and the pools in Alice's eyes swelled menacingly, teetering on the edge of flowing down her cheeks.

"Goodbye," I murmured sadly and turned to leave, but was immediately stopped by a chorus of shouts and a loud wail from my mother.

"Wait!" she cried and rushed forwards to wrap her arms around my waist. Much as I wanted to, I did not allow myself to relax into the maternal embrace but only stood awkwardly as she sobbed into my chest. After a few moments, I prised her free and held her firmly at arm's length, hardening my heart against her sorrow.

"I'm leaving now," I said and she began trembling like a leaf, gripping my hands tightly in hers.

"Have you got everything you need?" she asked, slightly hysterical, and my father stepped forward to comfort her, soothing her with soft murmurings. I nodded and spared her a tight smile, trying to reassure her that I was alright.

Pulling my right hand free from her clutches, I reached over and shook my father's hand, his left coming up to rest on my shoulder. "We're proud of you, son," he assured me and I nodded grimly, moved by his praise which I'd always had to earn. My mother hiccoughed loudly and he released my hand to pull her into an embrace, patting her back soothingly.

Suddenly Alice was at my side and she tugged at my arm, pulling me down to her level so that she could plant a kiss on my cheek. Leaning closer to my ear so that our parents could not hear us, she whispered, "Thank you, Edward, for accepting Jasper. He makes me so happy."

When she pulled away, her tears had finally overflowed and were trickling down her cheeks, and I handed her my handkerchief to dry them. She sniffed and gave me a watery smile and I took her hand in mine as I held her eye.

"Look after yourself, Alice," I urged her earnestly and she nodded her assurance.

With one final squeeze of her hand, I let it drop and stepped away from the family I loved, backing away towards the door. There was nothing left to say and so nobody broke the silence as I took one final look at them all, memorising their faces for the long months to come until I could see them again. They stared back at me, unmoving, and with that I turned and left, closing the front door behind me.

Hastening away from the house, I struggled to block out the keening wail that now emanated from the back room, putting as much space as possible between my family and myself.

I hurried along the street, my head bowed so as not to meet the gaze of any passers-by, and I only looked up when I saw a pair of feet in front of me that refused to move out of my way. Reluctantly lifting my head, my gaze locked with the most beautiful pair of brown eyes I had ever seen and before I could collect myself, my heart jumped into action in my chest.

She just looked at me, narrowing her eyes suspiciously, the manufactured expression barely masking the hurt evident on her face. "You didn't plan to leave without saying goodbye, did you?" she asked quietly, her voice barely raised above a whisper as she stood, immobile, staring at me.

I could not respond, but neither could I tear my eyes from her face and so I just gazed back, my eyes roaming over every contour of her exquisite features. Her expression was carefully neutral but I could see the pain in her eyes and felt as if I were shrivelling under her sadness.

I had insisted that my family did not accompany me to the station, preferring to slip away as quietly as I had arrived. I could not face the drawn out goodbye that I was sure their presence would afford and I did not want to test my will power with an emotional parting. For the same reason, I had neglected to tell Bella the time of my train and had cowardly hoped to leave without ever having to say goodbye to her. I was sure that, as strong as I boasted to be, I would break down if she were there to see me off.

Now, however, she stood before me, staring at me as if she could see right into my head and I found that I couldn't pretend any longer. I shook my head mutely and she raised her eyebrows sceptically, understanding that she had hit on my intention precisely.

Her forehead crumpled and she bit her lip, causing its colour to deepen as her teeth pressed into it. "Edward, you can't hide away forever. I know this is hard for you, but you can't shut everyone else out. We love you and we deserve a proper goodbye; slipping quietly away may be easier but it's not fair to us."

The freezing February wind whipped at her coat, tugging it away from her and she clutched it tighter to her body. Her lips and cheeks were a raw pink from the cold and when I grabbed her hand her fingers felt like ice. "I'm sorry, I've been selfish," I told her earnestly, looking into her eyes, and she didn't break away.

Her lips parted slightly in surprise and her tongue darted out to moisten her chapped lips. I watched its progress avidly as she ran it delicately over her bottom lip. Suddenly, I felt my knees go weak and before I knew it, I was stepping closer to her warm body. "I thought I could save you from a drawn-out goodbye," I whispered, "but I was really just trying to save myself. When I see you, I don't feel I can leave."

She shuddered slightly as I gazed keenly down at her and she once again caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "Can you forgive me?" I breathed and her eyes glazed over momentarily before she nodded. "Will you come with me to the station?" I asked as one hand slid a trail up her arm and along her shoulder, finishing just under her jaw.

She seemed to soften against me as she nodded again and I bent down to press a quick kiss to her mouth before taking her hand in mine. She appeared to shake herself as I moved away from her, and then strolled easily next to me as we walked through the town. People's stares no longer to bothered me so much now that Bella was with me; I felt impermeable, like no-one could touch me when she was nearby. I wished it was a feeling I could carry to the trenches.

I clutched her hand tightly in mine as we walked, stealing covert glances at her out of the corner of my eye. We said little, preferring to pass these last minutes just with each other, not feeling the need for words. I felt like we were cornered with a ticking time-bomb and each second that passed devoured more of the fuse. Our time together was almost run out and our fragile relationship would soon be blown apart.

We reached the station all too quickly and the train was due in less than ten minutes. We stood, awkwardly at first, neither of us knowing how to handle this parting which seemed to hurt all the more because we had been so happy mere hours ago.

**CUE COLDPLAY**

Moving slowly, so as not to startle her out of her reverie, I took a step closer to her and brought one hand up to stroke her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered slightly at my touch but she forced them back open, her bottomless brown eyes locking resolutely with mine.

She sidled forward so that we were pressed up against each other, not breaking her gaze, and wrapped her arms securely around my waist. I sighed and pulled her closer, sliding my hand down from her cheek to the small of her back, lingering at her neck and jaw to feel the silky skin there. Her small body shuddered slightly and she turned her head away, resting it against my chest so that we almost seemed to mesh into one person. We fitted together seamlessly and I knew more than ever that I would leave part of myself behind when I got on that train.

Glancing around me, I noticed that darkness was beginning to fall over the station, creeping up on us and preparing to snatch her away from me at any moment. Bella seemed to stave off the blackness but when I left her, I knew that it would try to claim me.

I sighed deeply and clutched her closer to me. "Twilight, again. Another ending. No matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end," I mused quietly and she looked up at me questioningly. I just shook my head and tried to mould my body still closer to hers.

I realised that every second counted and felt compelled to make her feel how much I cared for her. Bending my head so that my mouth was brushing against her ear I whispered, "I love you, Bella." Suddenly the words seemed so inadequate but my jumbled brain could conjure up no others.

"I know," she murmured in reply and I relaxed slightly in relief. Bella had never needed me to say something out loud; she understood what I meant to say like nobody else could. She tucked her head back under my chin and breathed, "I love you, too."

I smiled a little in response. "I know."

Time ceased to mean anything as we stayed clasped together so that I was hardly able to tell where her body ended and mine began. What could have been hours or seconds later, however, we were disturbed by a clattering, chugging noise that caused a razor-sharp jolt in my stomach. I felt Bella stiffen in my arms and a quick glance over her head confirmed to me that the train was fast approaching the station.

She pulled her head away from my chest and turned her face up so that I could see the silent tears that painted her cheeks. She was beautiful, even when she was crying, and my heart felt as if it would cleave in two at the thought of leaving her. I caressed her face mutely, wiping away the tears that continued to fall from her brimming eyes. "Bella –" I began but she cut me off, putting one finger to my lips.

"Don't say anything," she urged me and I complied, gently kissing her fingertip where it rested on my mouth. She reached her other hand behind my head and twisted her fingers in my hair, yanking my face down so that it was only an inch from hers. Then she raised herself up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips forcefully to mine, her tongue darting out to run along my bottom lip. I wrapped one arm tightly around her, deepening the kiss, and let the other creep up to mould itself to the back of her neck, tracing the line of my cross on her skin.

All too soon, she pulled her lips from mine, her tears dripping down both our faces, and tilted her head towards the train beside us. I wanted to say something, anything, but my brain was too shambolic to form words. Consequently, she was the first to speak, stepping backwards away from me and brushing her tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Edward, you need to get on the train."

Unable to tear my eyes from her face, I nodded and swung my pack over my shoulder once more, backing up until I felt the handle of the train door behind me. Turning away from her for a moment, I opened it and stepped inside, slinging my bag carelessly on the floor. With the train door still hanging open, I stuck my head out, my eyes searching frantically for Bella's until I found her, standing forlornly on the platform.

She stepped closer to the train so that I could just make out her voice over the clatter and screech of the engine. "Come back to me," she begged and I reached out to take her hand in mine.

"I will," I vowed, my voice choked and gruff, "I promise." I would do anything to keep that promise and, against all the odds, I would find a way to come home so that we could be together. At that moment, hanging out of the train, I made an oath to myself and to Bella that I would survive, no matter what it took. Somehow, we would make it through; we just had to.

The whistle blew and still neither of us moved, staring at each others' faces desperately. Beneath me, the train began to stir and her hand dropped from mine as it started pulling out of the station, but my eyes stayed locked with Bella's. Her mouth opened as if to speak but the train persisted in carrying me away from her, picking up speed as it approached the bend. I leant out of the door as far as possible, clinging onto the last sight of her face through the murky darkness as we turned the corner.

Suddenly the trees sprung up on either side and I could see the station no more, could see Bella no more. Frantic, I ran to the other side of the train and hung out of that window, but it was no use. The platform was too far away, obscured by the forest and the gathering gloom. And with that, I was torn from her, ripped from her side by distance and duty, and I felt myself collapse.

Shaking, I sunk onto a seat, ignoring the few other passengers who stared at me with concern and alarm. I didn't care what they thought, nothing mattered; she was gone again and I was on my way back to my own personal hell.

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**Well? *sniff* I'm sorry if you are completely cold hearted and didn't like that but it made me cry and I wrote it. But then, I suppose I do cry at anything (the news, disney films, sometimes adverts like the ones with the abandoned dogs with really waggly tails :( ).**

**Let me know if you listened to the genius that is Coldplay and if you thought it worked. If you didn't, I want to hear that too. **

**Here's the deal. I've never been one for setting review ultimatums, although I know some authors do that, and I'm not about to start now. I've always figured CHAPTERS = REVIEWS not REVIEWS = CHAPTERS.**

**Having said that, I would love it if I could get twenty reviews? Please? Is that too much to ask? Twenty would make me really really happy *puppy dog eyes*. 74 people have this story on alert so I know you're out there... I'm watching, always watching...**


	16. Exposure

**Thank you so much for the amazing response to the last chapter :D I actually got 26 reviews so I am very happy! You guys are the best :P**

**On a slightly less joyful note, I don't like this chapter very much :( I'm sorry, I don't feel that I should be giving you guys substandard chapters as you deserve better, but I don't think I _can_ do any better with this one. *hides behind computer*. Now that Edward is gone I feel all deflated and so the story is less dramatic, I'm afraid *pouts*. **

**Never mind, this one is necessary to develop the plot.**

**On another happy note (I like those better) I would like to say that I'm honoured that JennWithTheGoldenEyes has bestowed her very first review on me, and thanks again to those anonymous reviewers I can't thank personally :)**

**Thanks as always to Cullenista for beta-ing this and comforting me when I was down about this chapter. I couldn't do this without you (no, really, I couldn't) :D**

**Now, on with the chapter. If you remember, Edward has just gone away on the train from Forks and Bella is left behind. This chapter picks up right where the last left off...**

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Exposure

**BPOV**

The tears that were cascading steadily down my cheeks trickled into the corner of my mouth and streaked my face with hot liquid that rapidly cooled in the wintry air. As I watched the train pull out of the station, rounding the bend that would take it away from me, I was frozen in place on the deserted platform, my eyes blankly staring at the spot where I had last seen _him _before he disappeared from my sight.

As the realisation slowly hit that he was gone, the tears flowed faster until I couldn't see through the hazy mist that the most furious blinking could not clear. Struggling to contain the sobs threatening to break free, I sunk slowly to the ground so that I was kneeling on the freezing stone, my head bowed as I let the misery take me. I felt bereaved; not like someone had left but like someone had died. The part of me that was happy, carefree, content had been ripped from me and I knew that it existed only for and because of Edward. He was my reason, my motivation for everything and I didn't know how I could cope with him leaving again.

A choking sob broke through my restraint and I swallowed to hold back the ones that followed, my breathing ragged as the tears overwhelmed me. One hand snaked up to my throat to clasp the silver cross in my palm, holding it reverently as if it could embody Edward himself.

I was completely oblivious to everything but my loss when a voice punctured my perceived solitude, asking concernedly, "Miss?"

Uncomprehending, I looked up to see the worried stationmaster peering down at me where I had collapsed on the platform. He reached out a hand as if to rest it on my shoulder but then withdrew it nervously, pressing anxiously, "Miss, are you alright?"

I realised that I must look a state, my cheeks smeared with fresh tears and my eyes red and blotchy, but I couldn't summon the energy to care. He looked closely at me, squinting to see through his glasses, and his face lit up in recognition. "You're Miss Isabella, aren't you? Charlie Swan's daughter?"

I nodded vaguely and he smiled encouragingly at me, resting his hovering hand gently on my shoulder. "Of course I know Charlie. We've been fishing together once or twice and he's been down here now and again in his uniform when there's been any trouble. He's a good man, Charlie is."

While he spoke I just stared at him, unable to follow his mundane chatter while part of me was travelling further and further away. Eventually he seemed to remember that I was on my knees on the platform as he shifted his attention back to me and asked with genuine concern, "What's wrong, Miss Isabella?"

I said nothing and just looked at him blankly, his kind old face creased with worry. "Was that your young man, just got on that train?" My lips parted slightly as if I would speak, but no words came so I nodded mutely.

"There, there now," he said soothingly, holding out his hand to pull me to my feet. I complied in a daze and when I stood before him he patted my hand in what he clearly hoped was a comforting gesture. "It'll be alright. He'll come home soon."

I looked up at his face and asked in a sharper voice than I intended, "Sir, have you got a son in the war?"

He nodded sadly and replied, "Aye, that I have. My boy's off fighting the Germans like the best of them."

"And do you worry about him?" I asked more gently and he inclined his head again.

"That I do. But he's a good boy, a strong boy. He'll make as fine a soldier as any."

I nodded in agreement and squeezed his hand in gratitude, my tears finally drying in the bitter wind. "Thank you for your kindness," I said as warmly as I could muster, and he smiled in response.

"Anytime, Miss. Would you like to come into my station for a cup of tea? I just made a pot."

I smiled but shook my head, declining his offer. "That's very generous but I really should be heading back."

"Well, you take care of yourself, Miss Isabella," he told me sympathetically. "And don't you worry your pretty head over that young man of yours. He'll come home eventually, just like all the others."

I forced my mouth into a tight smile and took my leave, glancing back over my shoulder to see that he was watching me with an understanding expression. My stomach twisted and I silently prayed that I would not soon read the name of the stationmaster's son in the newspaper.

I hurried back along the desolate streets, darkness engulfing the familiar landscape and seeming to chase me as I came nearer to my home. I was eager to get inside and escape the raw night wind but as I approached the gate, I paused, my hand resting hesitantly on the gatepost. Through the parlour window I could see my father sitting in his favourite armchair, a newspaper propped on his lap and his head thrown back and mouth open as he slept. I bit my lip as I watched him, the light flooding through the window as he had forgotten to draw the curtains. I needed to go in and cook his supper, but I didn't think that he would miss me if I came home a little later.

Turning away from my home, I crossed over the street and opened the gate to the house a few doors down, knocking tentatively at the door. There was the sound of heavy footsteps then the door swung open, revealing Mr Masen framed in the warm glow of the hallway. He seemed tired and older than I had seen him before but he smiled wanly at me before inviting me in.

I followed him through to the kitchen from which I could hear high-pitched voices and when I pushed open the door, I was greeted with the sight of Mrs Masen and Alice sitting on chairs pushed close together and comforting each other as they wept. They looked up as I came in and my appearance was met with a renewal of the former's wails, causing a distraught Mr Masen to flinch.

Undeterred, however, I walked into the room and knelt before the two of them, taking Mrs Masen's hand in mine. Stroking it soothingly, I began to murmur in a low voice, hoping to calm them with my composure. "I just went to the station," I told her, reassuringly adding, "Edward got on his train fine, no problems."

She looked as if she would protest that she had not been allowed to come so I quickly added, "He asked me to tell you he'd miss you." My voice wavered nervously at the lie and I gnawed awkwardly on my lip but she seemed too distracted to notice. It was not a bad lie, I reasoned; I was sure that Edward would have mentioned missing his parents if he had thought of it.

"He – he said that?" Mrs Masen sniffed and I nodded, my eyes wide in false innocence. "Oh, my boy!" she wailed and Alice patted her back consolingly. "He's such a good boy!"

I left them to cry for a few minutes further and then stood up, pulling a third chair next to Alice's. I hesitantly reached out a hand to pat her on the back but was taken completely by surprise when she threw herself into my arms, sobbing loudly.

"Shh, Alice, sshh," I soothed, stroking her unruly hair as she howled into my blouse.

"Bella," she choked out in between wails, "I'm so worried about him. What if he gets hurt?"

_What if he gets killed?_ The unspoken question rang loudly between us and we avoided each other's eyes as I floundered for an answer. "We're all worried about him," I hedged, adding firmly, "but he'll be fine." She looked up at me, eyes wide and trusting at my confident prediction and her bottom lip wobbling slightly as the tears built up in her eyes again.

"How do you know?" she whimpered and I jutted my chin up determinedly, trying to convey a sense of certainty that I did not possess.

"Some things you just have to believe, Alice, and this is one of them," I told her, echoing Edward's words from a few days ago that had soothed me, although I suspected that had more to do with his presence alone. I gazed strongly into her eyes until she nodded and buried her head in my shoulder again, her sobs quieted and only her tears flowing to stain my blouse.

Over her head, my eyes made contact with Mrs Masen's and she gave me a watery smile, reaching out to pat my hand gently. "Thank you, Bella, you're very good to us."

I smiled warmly back but shook my head dismissively. "On the contrary, Mrs Masen, it is I who is indebted to you. You are very kind to take care of my father and myself."

She beamed at me and sighed softly, dabbing at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief that she flourished in her left hand. Alice was still now in my arms and her tears had dried although she seemed reluctant to let me go. I soothed her and patted her head slightly awkwardly due to the angle at which she held me, and as I moved I saw Edward's chain glint in the warm light of the kitchen.

The flash caught Mrs Masen's eye and she peered closer at the cross that had fallen out of the top of my blouse, leaning over Alice's huddled form. "That's a very pretty necklace you have there, dear. Do you mind if I have a look?"

I opened my mouth to reply but before I could, she reached over and gently lifted the cross, balancing it on her fingertips. She frowned at it for a moment then looked up at me, slightly puzzled. "That's funny. This looks just like the one my mother used to wear. Where did you get it?"

I froze for a moment before answering in a whisper, "Edward gave it to me."

"He did?" she asked, bemused, before something slotted into place in her mind. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open, forming an 'oh' shape, although no sound came out but a breathy gasp. Alice's head shot up off my shoulder and her eyes snapped up to meet mine that, I was sure, betrayed my guilt and slight panic. Hers were earnest but did not seem surprised as they gazed reassuringly into mine, calming me slightly as I waited for Mrs Masen to regain the use of her voice.

Mr Masen looked over at the small group, confused by the sudden stillness, and walked over to our chairs to see what had caused the change. "What is it, Elizabeth?" he asked and she spluttered incoherently for a moment.

Finally forming the words she choked out, "Bella's wearing Edward's cross."

His brow creased and he looked confused for a moment and then asked me, "Edward gave this to you?"

I nodded nervously and his frown deepened, looking to his wife for an explanation.

She swallowed loudly and then took my hand, asking gently, "Did he – are you – engaged?"

Mr Masen's face cleared and his eyes bulged, two pink spots appearing on his cheeks. Hastening to reassure the pair of them I spluttered, "No! No, definitely not!"

He seemed to calm down on hearing this and the blotches on his face subsided, but Mrs Masen continued to press me. "But you are – you two are –"

I took a deep breath and met her gaze squarely, answering her unformed question as confidently as I could muster. "He says he loves me."

Mrs Masen seemed to hold her breath as she leaned even closer to me so that we were less than a foot apart. "And do you love him?"

"I do," I answered quietly and she exhaled quickly, leaning back to slump in her chair. Mr Masen walked round behind her chair and rested his hands on her shoulders, a deep crease forming once again between his eyes.

I jumped up from my chair and Alice followed me, clutching my hand as I moved so that we were standing several feet away from them, waiting anxiously for a reaction. After a moment or two, Mrs Masen regained her composure and looked up at me in shock. Her eyes flickered to Alice, standing firmly beside me, and suspicion flitted across her face. "Alice, did you know about this?" she asked and Alice hung her head, caught out.

"She did know," I answered for her, "but we didn't tell her. She just guessed."

At this, Mrs Masen glanced up at her husband behind her and they shared a knowing look. "You can't keep secrets from Alice," he joked heavily and she nodded with a fond smile on her face. For a moment, I hoped that this signalled the end of the conversation, but they soon turned their attention back to me as I cowered in the middle of their kitchen.

It was Mrs Masen who broke the few moments of silence, sighing quietly. "Well, I can't say I didn't see this coming. You two have been inseparable for years. It was only a matter of time." She nodded wisely and rose up out of the chair, her husband's hands falling from her shoulders as she moved away.

She walked slowly towards us until she was standing directly in front of me, one hand outstretched to take mine. I gave it to her cautiously and she smiled; a genuine smile that lit up her face.

"I'm sorry, Bella. We didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable but it is a bit of a shock. My little boy's all grown up now," she sniffed and rubbed my hand gently. I smiled back at her, relieved that she no longer seemed upset and grateful that she was taking the news so well. She hesitated then extended both her arms towards me, asking for permission to embrace me. I moved forward tentatively and she folded her arms around me warmly in a maternal hug such as I hadn't felt in years.

"I couldn't have picked a better girl for him, myself," she whispered and I smiled over her shoulder. Mr Masen was still watching us, looking completely taken aback, but his expression softened the longer he stood there until he looked resigned, if slightly confused.

Eventually, Mrs Masen pulled back and beamed at me, holding my face between her hands affectionately. "You must bring your father to dinner tomorrow night; we'd simply love to see him," she told me warmly and I accepted with a smile. "Now I expect you have to get home?" she guessed and I nodded again, brushing myself down as she released me. She watched me with a rueful expression on her face and walked me to the door, handing me my coat from the hall closet.

"Goodnight, dear," she murmured as I took my leave and the last thing I saw before I turned away was her warm smile lit by the hallway lamp as she closed the door.

I walked slowly down the street towards my house, my mind reeling as I tried to take in what had just happened. It was no longer a secret that something was going on between Edward and myself, that much was certain, but I was unclear how I felt about it. Perhaps I should be relieved that his parents were so accepting but there was a significant part of me that felt very uncomfortable with the development, wishing that they could have remained in the dark a bit longer. I was inexplicably alarmed by the indefinable glint in Mrs Masen's eye as she looked at me, partly excited and partly indulgent. I hated to be the centre of attention and it seemed that I would be under constant scrutiny from this point onwards; prospect made me distinctly uneasy.

On top of that, there was the worry that they would tell my father who, I was sure, would not react kindly to being told by his neighbours that his daughter was in a secret relationship. I groaned internally as I anticipated his response; he would be angry, undoubtedly, and also hurt that I had not told him myself. Of course, I could always ask the Masens to keep our secret for the time being but I suspected that this would not be successful. Mrs Masen meant well and she was kind and generous, but she would be unable to keep such a momentous confidence.

I sighed as I pushed open the front door, shedding my coat before peeking through the crack of the living room door to see if my father was still asleep. He was sprawled in his chair, as when I'd last seen him, so I tiptoed quietly away to begin his supper.

I tried to keep the clatters and bangs to a minimum as I cooked but I must have woken him regardless as he pushed through the doorway just as I was taking the pot off the stove. He appeared bleary eyed and I pursed my lips, thinking that his fishing trip must have tired him after all, so I ushered him to a chair so he could rest.

"Good timing," I said as I held out his chair for him to sit down. "Supper's just about ready."

He nodded vaguely and ran one hand over his dishevelled appearance, rumpling his hair distractedly. I inspected him concernedly as I placed the steaming bowl of stew before him, taking in his creased shirt that had come untucked and the lines that sleep had pressed into his cheek. He seemed softer, more vulnerable than I was used to and for a moment I began to worry that his health was deteriorating again.

He smiled his thanks and began inattentively spooning the warm liquid into his mouth, staring at something in the distance that I couldn't see. I began to eat as well, watching him cautiously as he silently lost himself in the realms of his thoughts.

Eventually I could take it no more and broke the hush, asking, "Father, what is it? Is everything alright?"

He looked at me, confusion playing across his face and responded, "Yes, yes of course."

"You seem so preoccupied," I pressed gently, hoping that a mild approach could tease the worry from him.

To my surprise, he capitulated quickly, sighing and setting down his spoon. "Well, we were fishing today and all Ed could talk about was young Edward going back to the front. We even came home early so that he could see him off."

I nodded minutely, keeping my expression neutral so that he would not see the effect that Edward's departure had on me, even as my throat burned rawly at his reminder. He narrowed his eyes calculatingly as he scrutinised my face and continued, "He left this afternoon, didn't he?"

I inclined my head in agreement and he leaned forward, his palms flat on the table as he looked closely at me. "I went out for a walk this evening," he told me, his tone clearly meant to be casual but setting me on edge none the less, "and I ran into a friend of mine."

I just stared blankly at him, not seeing where he was going with this, and nodded for him to continue.

"I just happened to bump into Jimmy Perkins on my stroll while I figure you must have been over at the Masens'."

Still I failed to comprehend what I was meant to understand from this so I just waited, sure that he could not keep it inside for much longer.

He sighed, exasperated at my lack of reaction. "Do you know Jimmy Perkins?" I shook my head blandly. "He's the stationmaster just down the road," he told me accusingly.

I froze. Mr Perkins was the stationmaster? Suddenly his words from earlier echoed terribly through my mind and I cringed at the memory. _Of course I know Charlie. We've been fishing together once or twice._ The words had barely registered in my mind at the time, but now they came screaming back to me. They _all_ did, and I realised what had him so upset. _Was that your young man, just got on that train?_ I had nodded. And now he'd told my father.

I could tell my eyes were wide and panicked, a deer caught in the headlamps, but I made no move to calm my expression. I knew that I was only compounding my guilt but I was powerless to move.

My father nodded with grim satisfaction that he had finally elicited a response from me and leaned even further towards me, preparing to go in for the kill. His stance reminded me forcefully of a detective interrogating a suspect and I could see that his police officer training was overriding his reaction as a father.** "**Jimmy said that he'd seen you at the station," he told me and I nodded meekly. "He said – he said that – you and Edward – that you –"

I tensed, waiting for him to deliver the fatal blow. He seemed to be getting redder in the face by the minute and I was concerned for his heart if he got anymore worked up. He spluttered incomprehensibly for a while then spat out, "He said that you two – that you were – together."

"We were together," I confirmed cautiously, unsure how much he knew. Perhaps the stationmaster had not told him after all. "I saw him off at the station."

He waved off my comments as if they were of little importance, bracing himself on the table with his arms locked to support his weight. He seemed to be getting more frustrated the longer this grilling continued and I decided that enough was enough when a twitch started to develop above his left eye. Pushing my chair back from the table, I rounded to his side and tried to loosen his hold on the wood, peeling his hands away from the table and easing him back into his chair. He was still choking on the words that he couldn't seem to utter, so I knelt by his chair and took one of his hands in mine.

"Father," I said gently, causing his bulging eyes to snap back to mine, "what is it? Why are you so upset?"

"Upset? Upset?" he muttered frantically, worrying me with the crazed tone to his words.

"You need to rest," I told him gently, trying to persuade him to go up to bed.

"I need to rest?" he spluttered disbelievingly. "I don't need to do anything, young lady. I'm your father: you should do what I say!"

I frowned, mystified by his irrational behaviour. "What do you mean?"

"I know what you've been up to!" he raved. "You can't hide anything from me! I've heard all about you and Edward Masen; he was taking liberties with you at the station!"

I felt the breath whoosh out of my lungs and I sat back on my heels, my head reeling as I struggled to take in this new information. The stationmaster must have filled my father in on exactly what we had been doing and I was dismayed to realise that this was the cause of his aggravation. Having finally forced out the offensive words, my father seemed to deflate a little, his head lolling back exhaustedly as he waited for me to respond.

After a few seconds of stunned silence my head stopped spinning long enough for me to process a reply and, deciding that it was best to confess as we were clearly caught red-handed, I said, "I'm sorry."

"You're what?" he asked flabbergasted. "You mean it's true?"

I nodded, abashed and his jaw dropped. "Oh," he huffed and then continued, "well, at least you apologised."

Fearing that he had misunderstood, I held up one hand to stop him. "I'm sorry that you found out like this," I clarified, watching his face turn from red to purple. "I'm not sorry that I did it."

"What?" he exploded. "You're only eighteen, Bella! You're far too young to be – involved – with anyone!"

"I'm not a child," I bristled, affronted that he was acting so condescendingly.

He seemed to have temporarily lost the ability to string words together and dropped his head into his hands, shaking it and muttering quietly, "No, no, no," over and over again.

I breathed deeply, calming my self-righteous anger and hesitantly resting one hand on his shirt-covered shoulder. "Father, I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm a grown woman and you need to give me some trust. I love Edward and he loves me."

He groaned faintly and lifted his face from his hands, looking directly at my earnest countenance. "You love him?" he croaked and I nodded wordlessly.

Sighing despairingly, he ran one hand over his tired-looking eyes and then picked up the hand that rested limply on my lap, clutching it with his rough fingers.

"I worry about you, Bells," he told me defeatedly and I tried to swallow the lump that threatened to form in my throat. "You know you'll always be my little girl."

I nodded and bit my lip, fighting the moisture that threatened to cloud my vision. My father sighed again and released my hand, standing up from his chair.

"I think I'm going to get some sleep," he told me wearily. "It's been a long day."

He gave me one last fatigued look and then walked slowly from the kitchen. I stayed kneeling on the hard wooden floor, listening to his heavy tread on the stairs followed by the creak of a door opening and closing. I suddenly found that I was exhausted and hung my head, spent from the showdown. Scraping myself up off the floor, I went through the motions of clearing up in a haze, and soon followed him upstairs.

Closing my bedroom door firmly behind me, I crossed quickly to my desk and fumbled with a match to light the kerosene lamp, straining to see by the sliver of moonlight that glimmered through the window. Finally I struck a match that caught and I scrabbled blindly in the dark, dropping it with a yelp when it burnt the tips of my fingers. Trying again, I finally managed to get the lamp lit, positioning it on my desk so that it cast a wide ring of light over the notched wood and into the penetrating darkness of the room.

I sat down on my chair and rifled through the desk drawers impatiently, triumphantly pulling out a sheaf of writing paper. Picking up my heavy fountain pen, I cleaned its nib on the blotting paper then selected a fresh page.

I began rushing through the events of the afternoon in an attempt to let Edward know that our secret had been discovered. It didn't matter much to me if words were a little jumbled as knew I had to warn him. It would be so much worse if my father got to him first.

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**Well, well, well! The cat is well and truly out of the bag. What did you think of the chapter? No promises of undying love, no heartbreaking partings but quite a few tears. Any thoughts?**

**I don't want to set a target amount of reviews for this chapter cos I don't think this deserves that many. Of course, if you're feeling benevolent then I'd still love to hear from you *smiles hopefully* :)**

**Next chapter we're back to Edward and an unexpected visitor...**


	17. Rendezvous

**Thank you to everybody who was kind enough to tell me that they did not think the last chapter was rubbish. Lovely reviews make my day!**

**Now, I promised an unexpected visitor in this chapter and a visitor there certainly is, although I wonder how many of you saw this coming. Nobody said anything but you never know...**

**Quick note for oreocookiepup101: Of course I am not offended by your comments :) I agree with you and they are duly noted. I'm sorry if I'm taking liberties (hehe, lame joke) with the period but we had to have some Edward and Bella love!**

**Oh, and just so you know, Brest is a seaport town in Northern France. It's where Edward... well, just read and find out ;)**

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Rendezvous

**EPOV**

_Brest, Early March 1918_

I had been away from Bella now for eight days and the separation was slowly breaking my heart. Not an hour went by when my mind did not drift back to her, when I did not yearn for her and the home I had left behind. I berated myself for being a lovesick fool and resolved that I would not waste all my time in misery, but somehow my thoughts drifted back to her ready smile and her warm lips of their own accord.

I had made a few acquaintances on the ship on my way back to France; some soldiers like myself and others merely travellers, either for business or journalism. There were few holidaymakers in this bustling town; it had mostly given itself over to the passage of troops and supplies from America and Britain to the front line.

Of my new acquaintances, those few men who understood what it was to fight were the greatest comfort to me. We hardly spoke of the front, focusing instead on the most banal details of our lives and the journey, and there was a mutual understanding that the subject that occupied our minds the most should be avoided at all costs.

The journalists were the worst as they seemed to embody the opposite ideas. The main topic to ignite their interest was that of the trenches and some were exceedingly persistent, pressing us constantly for a scoop that would make their name. Consequently, our small band avoided them as far as possible, sheltering in each other's company for the few days we spent on the ship, preferring our silence to their assiduity.

I was relieved, when we reached the port, to brush off their penetrating questions and stares as I left their company behind. They all had a purpose, a place to go, and did not linger to chat. That left myself and my three friends who were also heading back to the front line. We had got to know each other passably well over the several days' sea journey and, besides discovering their names to be Dick Bailey, Elliot Simpson and Ben Cheney, I learnt a little about their homes and their past.

Dick was a tall man, dark haired and good-looking, and could only be described as a degenerate. He was always making some suggestive joke and his comments about the women we ran into made me flinch. I knew that I was acting like a prude but I could not help but be disgusted by his attitude towards the opposite sex. He was a notorious skirt-chaser and I felt sorry for any woman who caught his eye. He was charming and likeable with his southern drawl, but not a man that could be trusted.

Ben, in contrast, was everything that Dick was not. He was quiet and shy but genuinely friendly and good-hearted. He told me that he had grown up in Boston, on the other side of the country to me, but I felt that he was the one who could best understand my upbringing. He seemed to share many of my values and frowned on Dick's womanising pursuits as I did.

He was short, only standing to around my jaw, but what he lacked in height he made up for in solid character. He was the least obtrusive of the group, understanding that I was wrapped up in my thoughts and leaving me to them for the most part, and for that I was grateful and soon came to respect Ben and acknowledge him as a good man and friend. We had developed a rapport that I had found with few others since I had left home, Emmett McCarty being the exception. They were two entirely different characters but both had somehow managed to weasel their way under all my barriers. I had let them in against my better judgement and now found that their friendship was invaluable.

Elliot Simpson was a whole different story. He was a skinny and fragile looking boy from Vermont; pale with light blond hair and washed out blue eyes. His face was almost permanently twisted into a sneer of distaste and it seemed he thought that nothing was good enough for him. It appeared that whenever he opened his mouth it was to complain or whine about everything around him and I had little patience for this attitude. He turned up his nose at more or less everybody and he and Dick were constantly at odds.

It was strange, the way that a situation can make you feel entirely different about someone. If I were at home, studying and enjoying my sports, I would likely have spurned the company of the three men who now surrounded me. Instead, I found that I was obliged to them for their companionship and their unspoken understanding. I did not agree with many of their views and actions, but I felt that over time we could become comfortable together.

When we finally disembarked from the ship, darkness was quickly falling and there were no trains until the following morning. I was grateful for the delay, harbouring no particular desire to rush back to the trenches, and the four of us decided to find an inn to stay at overnight. My nagging rationality reminded me that I was only delaying the inevitable, but I pushed that thought aside. Any reprieve that I was granted, I would take thankfully.

So it was in that way that I found myself on an old bar stool in the buzzing town centre, surrounded by jocular soldiers on leave and welcoming locals. I was surprised by how little resentment seemed to be directed at those who were only passing through; the residents of the town were clearly used to travellers and thought nothing of the soldiers who frequented their inns between spells at the front.

Dick had left our small gathering early in the evening to divide his attention between the many friendly French girls. If I cared to look, I'm sure I could find him tucked away in a corner with a handful of them, laughing and smirking as they clung onto him. He would not be returning to our rented room tonight, I was certain, but the fact hardly impacted on me. I would not be responsible for his actions and I would rather not think too closely on them.

Ben sat on one side of me, and Elliot on the other as we perched at the bar. We ordered three pints of the house ale and the bartender grinned toothlessly as he slammed three grimy glasses in front of us. I pulled mine towards me, drinking deeply as I tried to wash away any foreboding of the trenches. Ben, too, attempted to take a large gulp but spluttered slightly at the crude taste. Elliot, watching the pair of us cautiously, sniffed suspiciously at his drink and set it down on the bar top, his face contorted in its usual disdain.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, just letting the atmosphere of the bar wash over us. The hubbub of the crowded room seemed to bounce right off me, barely registering in my preoccupied brain. My thoughts were trained almost exclusively on Bella; on what she might be doing right now and in wondering whether she missed me. I didn't glance to either side of me but I knew that they were both still there, probably lost in thought in the same way that I was.

It was only when I heard a gasp from the stool next to mine that I looked up to see Ben with his jaw practically resting on the floor. I studied him in surprise; he was usually so reserved and I don't think I had seen him express any raw emotion before.

Puzzled, I followed his gaze but was only met with a large crowd of people, jostling and drinking in the dim bar. Clearing my throat, I nudged his stool with my foot and his jaw snapped shut, his eyes meeting mine.

"What is it?" I asked and he shook his head in disbelief.

"Did you see that girl?" he asked, slightly breathless and I indicated that I had not, immediately losing interest. I hadn't pegged Ben to be one to chase after women but it was true that I did not know him all that well. I was surprised and slightly irked, however, that he favoured Dick's pursuit after all. I attempted to lose myself in my drink again.

"Edward," he hissed and I looked up again, confused and slightly annoyed that he had disturbed my meditation. "Over there," he mouthed and I peered where he directed and this time my eyes fell on a young woman with long, honey-brown hair. She met my gaze and blushed, looking away, and I was reminded immediately and forcefully of the beautiful woman I had left behind.

I turned to Ben and raised my eyebrows and he nodded nervously, his hands looking slightly clammy as he clenched his fists. I leaned forward so that Elliot, who was still staring moodily at his glass, would not hear us and muttered, "You should go and talk to her."

His eyes almost popped out of their sockets and he looked terrified, shaking his head vehemently. "No, no I couldn't do that."

I shrugged, in no mood to prevail on him, and ran my finger idly around the rim of my almost-empty beer glass.

A moment later I heard Ben's sharp intake of breath once again and wearily glanced over at him. "She keeps looking this way," he hissed and I twisted to have a look, noticing that the pretty girl with long hair was staring at him.

"I think she likes you," I told him encouragingly and he blanched. "Go over there, be brave," I urged and he fidgeted anxiously in his seat.

"What if she doesn't like me?" he whispered and I scoffed dismissively.

"Of course she will. Now get a move on before I go over myself and tell her that you're keen on her."

"Right," he said decisively, steeling himself. "I'm going." Taking one last swig of the coarse beer and trying not to wince, he slammed his glass down on the bar. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," I told him obligingly and watched as he strode purposefully over to the table where the girl sat. She stood up as he approached and I noticed that she was tall and slim, towering over him. He faltered a little but carried on, introducing himself with pseudo-confidence and sitting at her invitation.

Chuckling, I turned away and risked a glance at Elliot who looked even more miserable than when I had last seen him. I polished off the last of the fearsome brew in my glass and ordered another, figuring that I might as well live vicariously while I had the chance.

Beside me, Elliot sighed wretchedly and I turned to him, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

As predicted, he launched into a stream of complaints about the inn, the drinks and the people, concluding, "I don't know how you bear it. It is odious and repugnant to me."

I bit back a smile at the repulsed expression on his face and nodded in a would-be sympathetic manner. "Why don't you go up to the room then?" I suggested helpfully. "Get some extra rest."

"You know, I think I will," he agreed and stood up from the bar, brushing down his clothes scornfully. "God knows, I'll need it when we get back to that hell-hole."

I shuddered as I contemplated that this could be the last decent night's sleep I got for months, but quickly pushed my apprehension away. If this was to be my last night before all hell broke loose again then I would enjoy it as best I could in this seedy pub. I sighed as Elliot walked away, disappearing through the door that led to the hired rooms upstairs.

The clamour of the tavern absorbed me for a while and I stared pensively at my hands, clasped as they were around the glass. It was hard for me to even imagine Bella in a place like this and so thinking of her was harder than usual. I had moved into a realm of which she had no comprehension and this knowledge only made me miss her all the more. If she were beside me then I was sure I would forget all about the horror to come the next day. Although, I mused, I'm not sure I would want her to be here. The looks that some of the men were giving the women around were quite unsavoury and my Bella was a beauty if ever I saw one. She would be sure to attract their attention and I would not have them look at her in that way for anything.

I had downed more than half of my beer when a voice close to my ear broke me out of my reflections. It rang over the noise of the crowd, drowning them out for me with unfamiliar words.

"_Bonjour monsieur_," a female voice said and I turned to see an attractive strawberry-blonde woman standing close behind me. I was startled that she was so close and she laughed lightly, smiling alluringly at me. "_Pourquoi êtes-vous seul__?_"

I frowned as I concentrated, my nostrils bombarded by her overpowering perfume, and summoned up my basic French to understand what she was saying.

"Je – je suis –"

"Ah, you are Engleesh," she said in a throaty French accent, her expression lighting up as she sidled closer.

"American, actually," I corrected her and she smiled broadly.

"I like ze Americains very much," she told me and I nodded vaguely, distracted as she pressed her body as close to mine as the stool would allow. "Zey are very, euh, friendly."

She ran one long fingernail up my chest and I jumped, edging back on my stool. I was trying to be polite and not hurt her feelings but I also wanted to make it clear that I was not interested so I gently removed her hand and pushed it away from me.

She smiled in amusement and brought it up to twirl in her hair instead, watching me with a delighted expression.

"My name is Tanya," she informed me. "_Comment vous vous appelez__?_ What are you calling yourself?"

"My name's Edward," I told her cautiously and she squealed with rapture.

"Ed-ward. It is such a charming name. _Charmant_."

I smiled tightly and she took the opportunity to edge nearer to me again, licking her lips in a slow, deliberate movement. I shuddered, feeling slightly nauseated.

"You are a soldier, Ed-ward?"

I nodded and she smiled flirtatiously.

"How long are you staying 'ere?"

"Just for tonight."

"Zen we have no time to waste," she purred, running her tongue over her top lip provocatively.

I stood up suddenly, pushing my stool away as I leapt out of her range. "Um, Tanya, I'm flattered, of course –" I stammered, a sweat breaking out on my brow as she sidled forwards so that she was less than a foot from me.

A rueful smile crossed her face and she winked cheekily, one finger tracing a pattern on my shirt. My breathing accelerated as my traitor body jumped at her touch, betraying me as she smouldered up at me from under her lashes.

He tongue slipped out of her mouth slowly to drag suggestively over her top lip, her lids growing heavy as she stared at me predatorily. Her fingers swept from my shirt to my wrist, trailing up my arm and lingering on the muscles that she could clearly feel through the fabric of my jacket. I gulped nervously and she took that as encouragement, sliding one of her feet between mine and pressing her body against me.

Realising that I needed to put some distance between us, I stepped hastily away and held up one hand firmly to halt her.

"No!" I exclaimed, summoning up every reserve of authority that I possessed and, to my relief, she paused, one eyebrow cocked.

"No?"

I shook my head adamantly. "I already have one beautiful woman and that's all any man needs."

"Are you sure?" she asked, entertained by my show of chivalry, and I nodded decisively.

"But she is not 'ere –" she began but I cut her off.

"No, Tanya."

She shrugged casually and I could have sworn I saw her roll her eyes as she turned away. "Alright zen, I will go."

I was abashed to see that she looked slightly offended by my rejection but, attractive as she might be, she was not Bella. Everything about her was the complete opposite of what I looked for in a woman, and loneliness was not going to provoke me to do something that I would regret for the rest of my life.

"It was nice to meet you," I told her, trying vainly to soften the dismissal and she smiled amusedly.

"You are a strange man, Ed-ward. I am not used to being turned down."

I smiled apologetically then sighed. "There's only one woman for me and she's across the Atlantic."

She made a mewing sound with her lips and played with my hair affectionately. "You are ze 'usband to her?"

I shook my head and she pulled up my chin so that I would look her in the eye. "One day you will marry her and you will be a fine 'usband. _Formidable_."

I stared straight at her and she did not blink.

Then she leaned forward so that we were cheek to cheek, turning her head to whisper in my ear, "_Je vous promets. Et quand je fais une promesse, je la tiens._"

She brushed her lips to my cheek and turned to go, throwing back a cheeky wave over her shoulder. I watched her walk away, my mind reeling with her parting words. _Je vous promets__._

Of course, this woman did not know me at all and, like as not, I couldn't trust anything she said, but I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that I would marry Bella, that I would take care of her and love her and make her happy.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had finished my second beer and was halfway through my third. It was easier to chug down the fiery liquid when I had some kind of hope to cling on to, and the image of Bella and I together never left the back of my eyelids.

As the night progressed, I steadily made my way through three more beers, tossing each back as if this would be the one to change everything. To change me so that I could have everything I desired; to change the war so that I could go home.

When, at eleven-thirty, the bartender finally announced that they were closing, I picked myself off my stool a little unsteadily and made my way over to the door that led to the rented rooms. A shout, however, stopped me in my tracks and I spun to see Ben coming towards me, leading the girl he had been admiring earlier.

"Edward! I wanted to introduce you to someone. This is Angela,"

"Pleased to meet you," she said shyly in perfect English but with a softly noticeable French accent. She extended her hand for me to shake and I took it, my brain a blur as I struggled to grasp the situation.

"Nice to meet you, too, Angela," I managed, slurring my words a little and Ben frowned at me in surprise. She didn't seem to notice, though, as she smiled sweetly and let go of my hand, reaching over to take Ben's. He looked flushed but gratified and I crowed internally at the pair of them.

"I'm going to take Angela home now," he told me warningly. "Are you heading up to the room?"

"Um, yesss," I told him and his frown deepened, concern as well as disapproval playing across his face.

"I'll be back soon," he cautioned me and I nodded abstractedly.

Shooting a puzzled look at me over his shoulder, Ben led Angela away and out of the front door. Hazily, I registered that they each looked intoxicated by the other's presence and that Ben was beaming in a way that I hadn't seen him do before.

I was just about to turn away when another call attracted my attention. I spotted the arresting blonde woman approaching me and, registering that she had seen me so it was too late to hide, I stood my ground.

"Ed-ward!" she sang and I raised one hand in a half-hearted greeting.

"Tanya, good evening."

"Such a gentleman," she teased, flicking her hair back and I rolled my eyes at her lack of subtlety.

"What can I do for you?" I asked her in what would have been a dry tone had I not slurred my words together slightly at the end.

"Ah, such a question! I can think of many things –" she trailed off seductively, leaning forwards so that we were mere inches apart.

Feeling uncomfortable with her proximity, I took a small step backwards which did not go unnoticed.

She smiled wryly. "I was 'oping that you would be ready to 'ave some fun now that you are a little more relaxed. Perhaps I was wrong?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as the combined effects of the alcohol and her perfume were overwhelming.

"Zat is too bad. You would 'ave been very enjoyable, I think."

Her eyes raked over me and I shivered, wanting to shrink into a corner as she undressed me with her gaze. She stepped closer so that she was pressed against me and my body chose that moment to paralyse me with exhaustion and drunkenness so I could not step back. Slowly, she rose onto her tiptoes and rested her hands on my chest, bringing her face nearer and nearer to mine.

Close up, I realised that her skin was caked with a thick layer of makeup which masked her true complexion and that her eyes were framed with a garish black line. The smear of colour on her cheekbones had started to melt in the heat and was partially trickling down her face and I almost gagged with disgust at her gaudiness.

Just as she was about to land a kiss on my lips, I came to my senses and leaned away, holding her shoulders to keep her back. Then, taking care that I did not stumble in my intoxicated state, I shuffled backwards and released her. A disgruntled pout came to her lips and she tried to follow me but I shook my head decisively.

"No, Tanya," I said as firmly as I could manage and she glared at me for a moment or two before finally breaking into a peal of laughter.

"Ah, Ed-ward, I don't know what to make of you. You are one of a kind."

"That's me," I joked weakly and she laughed again.

"You are sure?"

I nodded resolutely and she sighed.

"Never mind. Maybe another time."

I didn't move and she took this as confirmation, amusement sparkling in her eyes. "_Au revoir_, Ed-ward. I 'ope it works out with your beautiful lady."

She let out one final peal of mirth and sashayed from the bar, closing the door behind her. I was left standing alone in the dark room, everyone else having left while we were _conversing_, and my spiralling thoughts struggling to keep up with the exchange that had just passed.

Deciding I would think through the ramifications in the morning, I stumbled up the stairs and into the rented room where Elliot was already asleep in one of the twin beds. Leaving the other for Ben when he got back, I grabbed a couple of blankets and dragged them to the floor, settling myself on the worn woven carpet.

I drifted slowly in and out of sleep for a time and consequently was still semi-conscious when Ben crept into the room a while later.

"Ben!" I hissed and he started, spinning to look at me where I lay on the floor.

"Sheesh, I didn't notice you down there. So you didn't go off with some buxom blonde, huh?"

I shook my head then realised that Ben couldn't see that and chuckled quietly. "No. What I have back home is far too precious to throw away on some girl in a tavern."

"I'm glad to hear it," he muttered. "Although you surprised me down there. I never took you for a drinker."

"I'm not," I agreed. "I guess I just felt lonely and in over my head. It was an easy way out."

"I know what you mean. Sometimes it's easier not to think, right?"

"Yeah. Is that what you were doing with Angela?"

"No!" Ben hissed and he sounded quite angry that I had suggested it. "Certainly not. I respect Angela. I would never treat her in that way."

"Sorry, sorry." I hastened to apologise but my words blended together on my sleep and alcohol fogged tongue. "I didn't mean that you would… Well, never mind. I was just thinking that you probably won't get to see her again much."

"I know," he sighed, and I heard the bedsprings creak as they took his weight. "I'm going to try to make it work, though," he told me. "I can visit when I'm on leave or when we're billeted away from the front, and we can write to each other."

"Of course," I agreed, understanding that he needed this reassurance. "I'm sure it will work out."

"Yes," he said but he didn't sound sure and I felt sympathy bubble up within me. I knew all too well how it felt to have found the girl of your dreams and not be free to pursue her, and Ben's situation was even worse than mine in that Angela probably didn't even realise his feelings for her. Bella knew that I loved her, I was sure, but I resolved to write to her when I arrived at the front and remind her. It couldn't hurt to keep that thought fresh in her mind and it would make me happier to know that she was certain of my feelings.

I heard the rustling of fabric as Ben undressed and pulled back the sheets on the rasping bed. "Goodnight, Edward," he whispered, adding, "thanks for saving me the bed."

"No problem," I mumbled back through the darkness. "G'night, Ben."

It wasn't long until I was deeply asleep, the weight of this day and the days to come pressing heavily on me. Throughout my dreams, Bella stood before me, but whenever I tried to stretch out to her she was suddenly several yards away.

I chased her over what looked like No Man's Land and, although she never seemed to move, she was always just out of my reach. Eventually, she disappeared and I was left standing alone in the middle of the grey expanse of No Man's Land, stuck between the enemy and my own side.

The trouble was, I could no longer tell which was which.

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**There you go! I'm always so excited when I get out another chapter :D And this one has Tanya, Ben and Angela in it (OK, so I lied before, it has three unexpected visitors). What think'st you?**

**Thanks to Cullenista for her brilliant suggestions for Tanya. Apparently that woman is quite the seductress...**

**On a not so good note, I think the next chapter's going to take a bit longer to get out. I try to update regularly but this rubbish like work and family keep getting in the way. The nerve, right? I'm anticipating a couple of days longer than usual until the next update :(**

**But, as compensation, I have been working on a little one-shot which I'm planning to post in a couple of days. It's a companion piece to Guns and Roses and is set - well, right about now in the story. It doesn't really fit in with the style, though, so I wanted to post it separately. If you have time, go and check it out :)**

**Seeing as I feel a lot happier about this chapter than the last, I'm going to have the audacity to ask for reviews. I know, what am I thinking? I'm going to go out on a limb here and ask for 25. I know that's a lot for my little story but it would make me really happy *puppy dog eyes* (wait, have I used that one before?).**

**SO PLEASE?**

**PLEASE?**


	18. Men Who March Away

**It seems I have to apologise to you guys. I lied about the one-shot (well, technically I changed my mind) and didn't post it after all. It will go up, though, I just decided that it worked better after this chapter or even after the next. But it will be soon. Sorry!**

**Anyway, on with this chapter. It has a couple of weird mood swing in the middle so hold on ;) **

**Thank you Cullenista for your help with this chapter and for making me laugh with your very own dog story! (Read on and you'll see what I mean :P)**

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Men Who March Away

**BPOV**

With a satisfied smile, I folded the sheaf of papers and pushed them into the addressed envelope, sealing it purposefully. For a moment, I just stared at the missive in my hand, steeling my nerve, and then with deliberate confidence I pushed my chair back from the table and stalked out into the hall, slipping on my coat and hat and striding out of the front door.

Bolstered with pseudo-confidence, I made my way through the tranquil streets lined with identical detached houses, not glancing to right or left for fear I would explode with the monotony. Since Edward had left again more than a week ago, life had seemed to move at an even more sluggish pace than ever before. Seconds turned excruciatingly slowly into hours and each day flowed into the next, making me jumpier and more impatient with every minute that passed. All I wanted was to get out, and I was rapidly ceasing to care how that came about.

Although I was loath to admit it, I had also focused all my energy on my flight from Forks to avoid dwelling on the loneliness that seeped in around the edges. I had thought that it would be easier this time, now that I knew how he felt and now that we were promised to each other. Instead, I found that it only became more difficult everyday to be separated from him and I could bear the indolence no longer.

I felt bereft with him being away again and the cross that I so lovingly wore around my neck started to feel more like a fetter, weighing me down with the fear that kept me awake each night. I felt tethered to this way of life and would do all I could to break free, to be with him again. I would happily be chained to Edward for the rest of my life, but I knew that I could not just sit here and wait for him to return.

I was an entirely different person when Edward was around and everybody could see it, my father included, much as he might deny it. I was lighter, freer, happier, and he was forced to acknowledge this, however reluctantly. Although he never spoke of Edward by name, if he could help it, he seemed to grudgingly respect my attachment to him and refrained from voicing his consternation further, for which I was grateful.

It was, in part, due to this recognition that he had let me go so easily, I believed. The previous night, I had finally mustered the courage to confess to him my desire to join the Red Cross and the conversation had not gone as badly as I had feared. At first he was angry, which aroused my defensive side, and the discussion had descended into a shouting match, each of us with our hot tempers trying to outdo the other.

"_Isabella Marie Swan!" he had shouted, instantly stoking the fire with the use of the name that I had resisted throughout my childhood. "You shall do as I say! And I say that you may not be a nurse! You will stay in Forks, and if you desire so fervently to help the war effort, you may knit and sew to your heart's content. Do you understand me?"_

This, of course, had incensed me to the point where I was practically delirious with rage and I had exploded, railing about the injustice of his pronouncement.

"_Yes, father, I understand you perfectly," I spat, my voice dripping with sarcasm and the shade of red on his shining face deepened slightly. "But I think you'll find that I am not a woman so easily put in her place. You can try to lock me away with only my needlework for company but you may discover that I will not sit down and take this inequity. I will make my own way if you do not help me."_

_With this bold declaration I pushed my chair back from the table, standing up so that we were eye to eye, and held my head high defiantly. _

_Shaking his minutely in response he asked with maddening calm, "How, Bella? How do you propose to take care of yourself? A young woman alone in a strange town? Please, be rational."_

_At this, I snapped, my hair flying loose as I exploded with hitherto-suppressed rage. I could feel my face reddening as I yelled but I was too far gone to care, giving myself over to the anger that bit at my throat like an unquenchable thirst. _

"_Be rational? You expect me to be rational? I will not be held back, chained to this small town for the rest of my life! I will break free; I will forge my own way! Being a woman is no disadvantage and I will not have anyone tell me it is. Do you not remember that the House of Representatives passed the Anthony Amendment only two months ago? Soon women may have the vote, same as men, and then you shall not put me down. I will have equal rights and I intend to exercise them!"_

_Overcome with self-righteous anger, I flounced out of the kitchen and up the stairs to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me like a spoilt child. I was irritated with myself for undermining my argument about being a responsible adult, but my wrath was such that I could not seem to contain it. For several minutes I paced agitatedly around my small bedroom, twisting my hands together until it seemed that I could wring out all my outrage and frustration._

_Slowly, I began to calm down until I found I could feel ashamed of my outburst and even regret screaming at my father as I lost control. Remorse swept through me, searing and exhausting, and I resolved that I should apologise, even if that hurt my already fragile pride. _

_Opening the door that had rattled on its hinges only twenty minutes before, I came immediately face to face with my father who was apparently about to knock. We stared at each other for a few moments before I lowered my gaze, gesturing for him to come in. He complied cautiously and an awkward silence prevailed until he finally broke it, his expression as contrite as I felt._

"_I'm sorry, Bells. I shouldn't have lost my temper and forbidden you to go. I know that makes me seem unreasonable but I'm just trying to take care of you."_

_I nodded mutely at his stilted apology and decided that it was time for one of my own._

"_I apologise for shouting at you. It's not your fault that this town is so suffocating and that I can't bear to stay here anymore."_

_The words came out a little harsher than I had meant them to and I cursed internally, hastily backtracking to form a more sincere apology._

_Settling on the truth as the most valid explanation, I sighed wearily, confessing, "I'm sorry. I miss Edward and I want to see him and I lost my temper, but that was entirely unfair and disrespectful of me."_

_He nodded and so I decided to continue, pressing my advantage. "I don't want to be treated like a child anymore. I'm old enough to make my own decisions and this is something I really want to do." Seeing that he was unmoved, I tried a different track, my voice turning almost pleading as I continued, "I can't stay here any longer, I just can't. This place is slowly squeezing the life of me; I have to get away. Please let me do this."_

_He frowned deeply and shook his head slowly, his voice firm when he replied, "I can't, Bella. I'm your father and I have a duty to look after you. I can't do that if you're across the ocean. You're just going to have to be patient and wait for," he paused and took a deep breath before continuing, "_Edward _to come back. This war can't go on forever, you know."_

_I felt the sanctimonious anger rise up in my throat again but I swallowed it down forcefully. Clearly, reasoned argument was the way forward if I wanted to demonstrate my responsibility and adult status._

"_That's not what this is about, Father. Of course I can't wait to see Edward again, but I also need to broaden my horizons." I paused for emphasis, making sure I held eye contact with him when I clarified, "Away from Forks."_

_He opened his mouth and looked set to argue back, but I pressed on, afraid to allow him to speak. "I think you should know that I am very determined when it comes to this point. I will find a way to leave, with or without your permission. If you will not let me go then I shall go of my own accord. I am perfectly old enough to be married, and if that's what it takes to gain a fragment of independence then I would be prepared to do that."_

_He paled and I hastened to reassure him. "I don't want to run away. I don't want to betray your trust. I'm asking for you to have a little faith in me and to let me go with your blessing."_

_He was silent for a few moments and then seemed to find his voice, croaking defeatedly, "You always were a stubborn one, Bells."_

"_I learnt from the best," I retorted, smiling jokingly, and he managed a weak smile in return._

_Then, suddenly serious, his gaze met mine and I was surprised to see that it was no longer subdued but sorrowful. _

"_What is it?" I asked anxiously and he sighed with genuine melancholy._

"_How am I going to manage without you, Bella?" he asked sadly and I stepped forward to take his hand, meeting his gaze with a constant, open expression._

"_It won't be forever," I reassured him soothingly, trying to find some point of reason that could bring him comfort. "Just while the war's going on, then I'll come back here."_

"_Will you?" he asked shrewdly, his light blue eyes piercing as they stared into mine, and I felt myself buckle under the weight of the assurance he was asking of me._

_Making a decision, I nodded my head firmly and met his gaze confidently when I replied, "Yes. I will, I promise."_

_Searching my face, my father seemed satisfied and nodded, knowing that I was incapable of lying convincingly. It was with reluctance that I chained myself once again to the small town of my childhood, but I owed my father much more than my return and I was determined to repay my debt. He had cared for me solely since my mother had died when I was twelve, and I knew that it would not be easy for him to be left alone. _

_My heart ached for the pain I knew I would be putting him through with my departure, but I was selfish enough that it did not shake my resolve. This was something that I just had to do, no matter what the consequences turned out to be; I could only hope that my actions would not hurt anyone I loved._

I winced again as I remembered the desolate expression on his face, wishing I could erase the memories of his hurt and abandoned expression. I didn't want to desert him, to leave him alone while I gallivanted off on my own adventure. That was not why I had petitioned to be a nurse, why I now carried the completed application in my hand. I truly wanted to help, to make a difference, and not just in a passive way. I knew I would never forgive myself if I sat safely at home while our soldiers gave their lives for our freedom.

My desire to be near Edward was also overwhelming and I embraced the Red Cross as my fastest ticket to where he was. I needed to comprehend this war from the inside if I were ever to truly understand Edward; it was clear to everyone who cared to look that when he had come back on leave he had been changed by the experience. I did not want to be left out of such a big part of his life and, horrific as I feared the war might be, I would do anything for him.

Reluctant as I had been to tell my father anything about my relationship with Edward, I now appreciated how essential his awareness was. It would have been much harder to formulate a valid reason for my leaving if he did not know the full extent of our _situation,_ and I knew that this was one of the reasons that he had finally given his permission for me to join the Red Cross. He understood my need to be near Edward, even if he had grave reservations on the subject, and he was prepared to let me live my life as I chose. He would never know how grateful I was that he had agreed.

The guilt over my imminent departure started to well up again so I purposely directed my thoughts away from my father, focusing instead on the mundane details of the scenery surrounding me. In an unsuccessful attempt to distract my mind, I observed with minute precision the flight of a swallow through the grey sky, meditating on the sublime beauty of the powerful wings beating in an intuitive pulse.

My hectic thoughts calmed the longer I watched the bird circling overhead and I passed the remainder of my walk to the post office in quite contemplation, a new peace washing over me when I allowed myself to notice and appreciate the patterns of life around me that continued no matter what, oblivious of the war that was tearing the country apart from seven thousand miles away. The swallows had returned to Washington this spring, as they did every year, and that thought was almost comforting. They gave me hope that perhaps things could one day be returned to normal.

I walked through the town almost in a daze, so lost in the details of nature that assaulted my senses that I barely noticed that I was on the main street until I had almost passed the post office. Wheeling in sharply, I took my place at the back of the short queue, contenting myself with people watching until it was my turn to be served.

My heart sank as I observed that Mrs Stanley and Jessica stood at the front of the queue, heads together in fervent discussion. Thankfully, neither of them looked back to see me and I made no effort to alert them to my presence, crossing my fingers that I could avoid the inevitable unpleasant conversation altogether.

I breathed a sigh of relief when they took care of their business quickly and swept out, never turning their heads to notice me as I cowered in the line. My spirits lifted by this narrow escape, I turned my attention back to the queue that was snaking forwards infinitesimally.

Directly before me in the small line was an elderly woman who I recognised from many errands to the bakery and grocery, a crotchety lady who seemed to go out of her way to be as cantankerous as possible for one human being. She had her lively Jack Russell on a smart red lead at her feet and I smiled as I saw it twist itself mischievously between her legs, knocking over the shopping that tottered in her basket.

"Brutus! No, bad dog!" she rebuked him as he ran in ever tightening circles around the bottom of her skirt, tangling her up so that she swayed precariously. "Brutus!" she scolded loudly, teetering as she struggled to retain her balance.

Deciding that he was done with waiting around, the impish dog took off towards the door with one final tug that sent his fraught mistress toppling rapidly towards the floor. The post office erupted in commotion as everyone reacted to the surprising turn of events, some leaping to catch the woman while others dashed haphazardly after the dog.

Stunned, Mrs Cope, the postmistress, peered over her spectacles at the bedlam panning out before her and her bewildered expression was the thing that tipped me over the edge. Suddenly I started shaking with silent mirth, struggling to contain the tears that threatened to pour down my cheeks. It felt incredible to have a release, an egress for all the pent up tension I had been storing in my body since Edward's departure.

The frantic relay around the small post office had me clutching my side to hold back the hysterics, biting my lip so that an inappropriate giggle would not escape. My lips were sealed but I was powerless to stop the tears rolling down my face, and settled with hastily wiping them away with my handkerchief.

When the manager of the local bank dived to catch the furry fugitive, however, bowler hat thrown askance as he lunged heroically, I lost it altogether and doubled over as the sobs of mirth streamed from me. The mayhem reigned around me where I stood, in the throes of uncontrollable hilarity, convulsing as I let the laughter take me.

Eventually, I regained my senses enough to extricate myself from the bonds of levity and bent to gather up the spilt shopping that was currently rolling around the floor. Scrabbling on my hands and knees, I managed to collect up the elderly woman's various jars, vegetables and loaves of bread and throw them back into the basket, jumping up with it over my arm to avoid being trampled by the stampede.

Suddenly, there was a great shout as one middle-aged man, disregarding what was clearly a new suit, made a grab for the small dog and managed to catch hold of the trailing lead in his outstretched hand. Immediately, the crowd diverged and cornered the excitable canine, closing in until someone snatched him up and held him fast so that he could not get away again.

Spontaneous applause broke out throughout the post office, led enthusiastically by a most perplexed Mrs Cope who seemed to have decided that she might as well enjoy the show from the safety of her perch behind the counter.

Slowly, order was regained as rumpled clothes were smoothed and possessions returned to their owners, the crowd noticeably livelier than it had been only minutes before. The queue reformed and the infernal process of waiting began again, but this time it was tackled with renewed spirits. Conversations were initiated between co-captors of the Jack Russell so aptly named 'Brutus', and the whole mood of the place was lighter and more animated.

Consequently, I found that the time passed quickly while I was waiting to be served and soon I stood before the counter, paying for the stamp and dropping the envelope bravely into the postage sack. My stomach twisted inside out as I saw it disappear amongst the other letters and I briefly considered diving in to fish it out, but quickly decided against that. I had made my choice and I had no desire to go back. Now I just needed to find the courage to face the ramifications.

Heading unhurriedly out of the post office and down the streets that would lead back to my house, my mood light and cheery, I revelled in the unexpected warmth of the weak morning sunshine. It had been some time since we had seen a day that was anything but frosty, and it was astonishing how the feeble rays of sunlight took the edge off the bitter cold.

My head was firmly lodged up in the clouds when I was wrenched back to Earth by the heavy sound of trudging towards me and looked up to see a tall soldier smartly bedecked in uniform. For a moment, my heart leapt in my chest and I thought for one impossible second that Edward had come back for me, but I quickly realised that it was not him.

I tried to hold back the waves of disappointment that my absurd hope had come to nothing, but I felt my face twist into a grimace nonetheless as I swallowed down the ridiculous tears. My rational mind knew that Edward would not return less than a fortnight after departing, but somehow my traitor heart had seen fit to force my daydreams onto reality. It was my own fault that I now felt his leaving all the more sharply as I relived my dismay.

Blinking through the moisture that had flooded my eyes, I moved close enough that I could make out the features of the unknown private and started as I recognised the face to be Jasper's, crumpled in misery as he ploughed through the town. He had not seen me as his eyes never left the ground in a posture that reminded me heartbreakingly of Edward when he had left for the second time, so I continued to walk towards him.

When we were only ten yards apart, I called out to him, breaking him out of his self-inflicted trance. "Jasper!" I hailed him and his head snapped up to meet my gaze, surprise then genuine pleasure flitting across his face.

"Bella!" he called back and strode towards me, a smile that seemed almost complete adorning his countenance.

"You're leaving?" I asked quietly and he nodded gravely. Looking him over, I appraised him in his uniform but could not help but feel that he seemed awkward in it. I had never seen Jasper look more comfortable than when he was in his old trousers that were darned at the knee, his sleeves rolled up, and up to his elbows in whatever game the schoolchildren were engaged in. It was only a few times that I had been privileged enough to see him like this, and every time Alice positively glowed with happiness watching him.

The contrast between the memory and the man that stood before me was immense. The soldier's uniform that so flattered many young men made him seem ungainly and uncomfortable, as if it's regularity and clean precision swamped his free personality. The hat that sat so jauntily on many a head seemed forced onto his, held in place only by sheer determination and strength of will.

Again, I acknowledged my surprise that Jasper would ever want to be a soldier; he seemed such a peaceful man and I knew from Alice that he was a pacifist. I could not imagine him answering the jingoistic call to death and glory, rushing with the young idealists to enlist to fight the Hun. It was hard to picture him anywhere but in his armchair with a newspaper, or teaching literature and mathematics to a classroom of enraptured children who couldn't care less about the subjects he taught but only wanted to hear his voice.

Suddenly, my thoughts took a much less pleasant turn and I gasped in realisation. "Alice!"

Again he nodded sadly, his eyes seeming deeper and more sorrowful than his years could allow. "I just said goodbye to her. She's at home now."

"Is she alright?" I whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer, and he sighed heavily.

"I don't know. She seemed –" he paused, searching for the right word "– upset," he finished delicately.

I bit my lip anxiously, imagining Alice in floods of tears as Jasper walked away from her, and I fought down the urge to rush instantly to her house. Jasper stood before me now and he was full of doubt and regret; my first job should surely be to ease his anxieties.

"I'm sure she is upset," I agreed sadly, "but I also know that she'll be alright. You mustn't feel guilty. She's strong, you know."

"I know."

"I'll take care of her. Don't worry about that."

"Thank you, Bella," he replied, his gratitude sincere as he held my gaze.

For a moment or two I just looked back, communicating silently to him my reassurance and regret that he was leaving. His grey eyes were soft as they met mine and I felt secure as I looked at him, understanding indisputably that I could trust him.

"I have to go now," he told me sorrowfully. "I have a train to catch."

I nodded in understanding and offered him a solicitous smile. "Would you like me to come with you?"

He smiled but shook his head, answering, "No, thank you Bella. I'd rather just be alone."

"I understand," I whispered and stepped closer to me.

"Goodbye," he said simply and bent down to kiss my cheek in a brotherly manner, twisting my heart with dolefulness.

"Goodbye, Jasper," I murmured back and with that he walked away from me, only looking back just before he turned into a different street to throw me a quick salute.

Sighing deeply, knowing that I would miss his warm smile and easy friendship, I hurried back towards my street, hastening straight towards the Masens' house.

I knocked on the door, but when no-one answered I pushed open the door hesitantly and slipped inside.

"Hello?" I called to the house at large. "It's just me, Bella. Is there anyone at home?"

There was silence and I waited patiently in the doorway, then a muffled cry came from the back of the house. "Bella?"

Following the noise, I went through to the kitchen overlooking the back garden and searched the room for the source of the voice. Huddled in the corner, a shape quivered and whimpered and I felt a wrench go through my heart when I saw that it was Alice. She was curled into a ball in the shadow thrown by the stove and was clearly sobbing as if bereft, hugging her knees to her chest as her tears stained her skirt.

"Alice?" I asked quietly, my anguish clearly evident in my voice, and she looked up to show me her face that was streaked with tears that kept flowing from her big blue eyes.

"Oh, Bella!" she wailed, devastated. "He's gone!"

I immediately rushed to her side and took her in my arms, rocking her like a small child as I murmured soothing things in her ear.

"I know, Alice," I said sadly, cradling her head on my shoulder as she cried. "I met him just now on his way to the station."

"You did?" she asked, her eyes wide as she blinked at me through my tears. I nodded and she sniffed, pressing anxiously, "How did he look?"

"Sad," I answered honestly, not finding the will in me to lie, and she burst into renewed sobs as she clung to me.

"Bella, I don't know how I'm going to get by without him!" she howled and I stroked her hair in a vain attempt to calm her.

"I understand, Alice. Trust me, I do," was all I could offer in comfort as she sobbed heartbreakingly into my blouse.

She looked up at me, her face stained with liquid and her eyes red and blotchy, and said timidly, "I thought I knew what it would be like, saying goodbye to him. After all, I've practised twice with Edward." She broke off to let out a choked sob and I tried desperately to swallow the lump in my throat, knowing that Alice needed me and so I could not afford to break down.

I nodded sympathetically and this seemed to encourage her to go on. "This is different, though. Saying goodbye to a brother is hard, but to someone you love like this –"

I tensed in anticipation of her next words, afraid that they would somehow rip open the wound of Edward's parting that I worked so hard to keep hidden.

"Oh, Bella!" she sobbed and her fingers clutched desperately at my sodden blouse. "I don't know how you managed to do this twice! It hurts so much!"

She began weeping copiously again and I could only return to rocking her, comforting her as best I could with my presence and my affection alone.

She cried for some time; after the first twenty minutes I lost count and ceased trying to get her to stop, contenting myself with holding her and soothing her with consoling words. Eventually, her tears seemed to dry up and she held still, her slight frame no longer shaken with heaving sobs.

A little while later, she lifted her head and met my gaze, her vulnerable blue eyes melting my soul with their intensity. "Do you know what the worst thing is, Bella?" she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible even in the silent kitchen.

I shook my head, reassuring myself that it would be nothing I could not handle. After all, I understood completely what she was going through and wanted to ease her pain so much.

Her eyes unfocused slightly and I watched her anxiously, wondering if I should be worried for her health after all this grief. "The worst thing is that I'm never going to see him again," she told me quietly and I held her close, stroking her hair away from her damp face.

"No, Alice, you don't know that. I'm sure he'll be fine. You have to stay hopeful," I counselled her uneasily, fearing that she would spiral into depression over something that had not even happened yet.

"No, Bella." She shook her head forcefully and commanded my full attention with her wide eyes that were still staring blankly into the distance. "I know that he's not going to come back. I just have a feeling and I know that I should trust it."

With horror, I watched as her vacant eyes filled with unshed tears and she ducked her head, allowing them to stream down her face and onto my shoulder. This time she lay still, no grief-stricken sobs shaking her body, and just let her tears soak my shirt all over again as I held her, for once lost for words.

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**?????**

**I like to shake it up a bit, keep you guys on your toes. **

**So I've been having a little think and coming up with some reasons why _I_ think you should leave me a little sugar. I wouldn't want you to do anything unreasonable, now, would I?**

**Why should you review?**

**Because you like the chapter (that's my favourite one :P)   
Because you hate the chapter and want me to improve   
Because you want to shout at me for lying about the one-shot (again, my apologies)   
Because you want me to be happy :)   
Because you don't care if I'm happy and just want me to shut up about reviews   
Because you have some disease that makes you type incessantly and only say lovely things...**

**OK, so they're not the best reasons but they're all I could come up with in a pinch. I'm sure you can think of your own so hit that button! Thank you :)**


	19. Break Of Day In The Trenches

**I know it's been a _little_ longer than usual since I last updated but bear with me. Life's pretty hectic right now but I'll do my best to stay on top of this story :) **

**The promised companion one-shot, 'Swallow Song', was posted this week and I'm pretty proud of it so I'd love it if you'd take a look. *Insert shameless plug here*.**

**I'm quite fond of this 'type' of chapter - we've had one or two before and I have a soft spot for them. Hopefully you'll agree but if you don't then that's OK. I still want to hear from you ;)**

**Thank you, Cullenista, for all your invaluable advice. You keep me grounded, hehe.**

**I have a couple of other things to mention but I'll do that in my endnote. Hope you like the chapter!**

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Break Of Day In The Trenches

**EPOV**

It was dawn and nearly a week had passed since I had arrived back at the front line; enough time for me to settle back into the routine as if I had never left. It was easy to pretend that I had never gone home at all; everything was exactly the same as before I had left, and yet at the same time indisputably different. Just over a month ago, my mind had been filled with images of Bella in my waking and sleeping moments and nothing had changed there. The only difference was that now I had reason to hope that she might do the same with me.

Knowing that Bella loved me, who I was instead inside of the image I projected, gave me faith like nothing else ever had. If someone as sweet and wonderful as her looked at me and liked what she saw then surely I was not as damaged as I thought myself to be? Perhaps my untainted soul was still under there somewhere, just waiting for her to draw it out of me. The thought filled me with hope that I could be better for her, that I could strive to be someone she would deserve. If I ever had a reason to survive, it was knowing that Bella wanted me to come home.

The first hints of watery sunlight had started to snake over No Man's Land, daubing the grey landscape with flecks of soft colour. The dawn was an octave of soft-hued pigments, the pastel rays of the sky unfolding to touch even the murkiest shell holes. On a morning like this, I almost felt there was some beauty in this sanguinary war, some poetry to the bloodshed and loss of life. I almost felt I could be fighting for a reason.

I stood up from my perch by the edge of the trench, stretching out my stiff muscles from an eight-hour shift on lookout. Suddenly I felt bright and alert although I had spent the entire night struggling to stay awake, knowing that if I had allowed myself to doze off for a moment then I would have been facing severe discipline. Sleeping on lookout duty was a court-martial offence and I personally knew of a handful of men who'd been shot for the same crime that I was so tempted by.

Only last night, when I had been gazing over No Man's Land for only a few hours, our commanding officer had walked through our section of the frontline, inspecting the troops and equipment. One soldier, Davies I think was his name, was sleeping at his post and the officer spotted him and proclaimed, "That fellow's asleep!"

The man in question, having promptly opened his eyes, looked exceedingly alarmed and we all watched dumbstruck, knowing the penalty for his offence. However, Emmett, to all our surprise and amazement, stepped forward and said in perfectly believable astonishment, "He can't be, he just lent me this pencil."

The officer peered suspiciously at the pencil in question, seeming as if he would dismiss it as poor evidence, but by this point Davies was quite clearly alert and so he was forced to drop the charge. The relief on that poor man's face was substantial and when the officer had passed along the line, he promptly thanked Emmett in no uncertain terms.

I confessed myself astounded at his audacity in coming up with a defence like that, but Emmett just shrugged nonchalantly. "I couldn't let him go down, could I?" he asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and for him it probably was. He may seem to be light-hearted and jovial, I acknowledged, but Emmett was also exceedingly loyal and selfless when it came to protecting his brothers. He had proved that time and time again since I had met him last summer.

Deciding that I was wide awake and that sleep would be allusive at any rate, and having been relieved from my post, I resolved that I would write to Bella again. I had sent her a handful of letters since I had lost sight of her face on the platform at Forks and her replies filled me with more joy than I had thought a mere letter could.

She had told me about the way that our parents had found out about our relationship and I wished I could have been there with her. It wasn't right, her having to hear their reactions by herself, but I was glad that she'd at least had Alice by her side. If Bella's reports were to be believed, however, my parents, bar a few moments of shock, had taken the news fairly well. My mother even seemed excited, according to Bella, but I was not sure that Mr Swan's reaction was the same. At least I could be sure that Alice would be a good friend to her.

Strolling into my dugout, I made my way over to the small shelf in the corner and grabbed at a few clean sheets of paper, scrounging a pen from another pack slung haphazardly on the ground. The air in the small bunker dug into the earth smelt damp and stale, but we were long used to the miasma. It was definitely one of the milder stenches that I had encountered in the trenches, the combination of rats and rotten flesh providing a much less pleasant one.

Deciding I would go back out into the trench to write my letter in the morning light, I pushed through the doorway and away from the chorus of Emmett's snores harmonising perfectly with those of the other two, who slept heavily with their legs hanging off the too-small bunks.

The morning air was crisp and chill and I felt the cold filter through my layers of clothing, but after a nighttime spent outside I couldn't face hiding away from the sky. The sunrise washed over me, bathing the sombre trench in its rosy hue, and I basked in the rare sunlight that seemed to refresh and cleanse me. To launch an attack on a morning like this would be nothing short of criminal; but I supposed that the Generals cared very little about trivial matters such as nature. Nature only got in the way of a good fighting strategy.

Having stretched myself out on a pilfered chair from a nearby village, I poised my pen over the page in readiness to write. It was always difficult to start a letter, I found; I had never been one for expressing my emotions much, but seeing Bella's breathtaking face seemed to coax confessions out of me. Being away from her, however, my more expressive side became locked away again and so the trial of letter writing began when I tried to put my feelings on paper. I was never tempted to abandon the endeavour altogether, however; her correspondence meant more to me than I would ever like her to know.

As I was slouched in my seat, desperately searching for words to begin the letter, I found my mind wandering on the slight breeze that flitted through our trench. Suddenly words were coming to me that I had not thought of in years. Before I knew what I was doing, I began to scribble the lines down, my hand feverishly trying to keep up with my memory.

Looking down at what I had written, I realised that it was a poem that I had studied in school several years ago. I vaguely remembered it to be by a poet called John Clare, and I was startled that I had recalled it with such certain clarity. I had never liked the poem at the time, never truly understood it, but now it seemed to have a certain poignancy that I had never appreciated before.

I perused the lines pensively, scribbled in hurried script.

_I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,_

_My friends forsake me like a memory lost'_

_I am the self-consumer of my woes,_

_They rise and vanish in oblivious host,_

_Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost;_

_And yet I am, and live with shadows tost_

_Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,_

_Into the living sea of waking dreams,_

_Where there is neither sense of life nor joys,_

_But the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems;_

_And een the dearest – that I loved the best – _

_Are strange – nay, rather stranger than the rest._

The startling pertinence of the words caught me off guard and I caught myself chuckling darkly as I perused them. _Into the living sea of waking dreams._ Of waking nightmares, more like. My circumstances seemed to be eerily echoed in the haunting lyrics of a poem written seventy years before, the ominous lines foreshadowing the sadistic debauchery of trench warfare. _There is neither sense of life nor joys, but the vast shipwreck of my life's esteems._ No Man's Land was a dead realm and those who waited on it were dead men. I almost laughed at the horrific irony of my epiphany; when we shovelled the earth from the sodden trenches we were digging our own graves.

I frowned at the verse for a while, puzzling over why it did not feel right. Rereading it, I realised that I had forgotten the last stanza and pursed my lips as I struggled to remember it. The lines came slower this time, my pen crawling over the page as each word floated from the recesses of my memory down to the nib of the pen I cradled in my hand.

_I long for scenes where man has never trod;_

_A place where woman never smiled or wept;_

_There to abide with my Creator, God,_

_And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept:_

What I wouldn't give for one good night's sleep!

_Untroubling and untroubled where I lie;_

_The grass below – above the vaulted sky._

I gazed in astonishment at the poem that had flowed unbidden from my memory. _Above the vaulted sky_. The words that had once been so simple and banally dull now seemed to command a greater resonance as they reverberated through my mind. Each phrase held a new significance, each line a portentous warning.

_And een the dearest – that I loved the best – are strange – nay, rather stranger than the rest._ Bella did not know the Edward who fought in the trenches, who shared his food with the rats and took a dead man's boots to protect his own feet. Bella did not love the Edward who could cold-bloodedly shoot another man without even caring about who he was or if he had a family. If she knew that Edward, I was sure she'd be disgusted.

_I long for scenes where man has never trod… There to abide with my Creator, God. _Perhaps if I did die it would not be so bad. Perhaps I could find some peace, away from the shells and the blood that permeated my every thought. I had never really been given cause to consider my faith in God; it was just something that I had inherited in the same way that I would one day inherit my father's house. It was ingrained and I had never thought to question it – that is until I arrived here.

Some soldiers lost their faith in religion altogether and abandoned God in favour of superstitious preparation. I had not done that, not given up my beliefs at the first sign of trouble. I suppose you could say that the war had even strengthened my conviction that there must be something else out there; how else could such a war be justified? I had to believe that the nameless, faceless dead had some sort of respite now or I could not go on. If I did not trust in God to protect me then I could never run into the spray of bullets. With my faith would go my courage and my hope.

"Hey, Eddie!"

The shout somehow pierced my bubble of reflection and my head swivelled automatically to see who had hailed me. Emmett was strolling casually out of our dugout, stretching as if he had just awoken from a comfortable night's sleep in a fashionable hotel and was now ready for bacon and eggs in the restaurant.

"Good morning," I greeted him courteously and he grinned, knowing that my hands were twitching to castrate him for calling me by the nickname I hated.

"What are you doing? Weren't you on lookout last night?"

I nodded and he shook his head in amazement, throwing himself down beside me on an abandoned pile of sacking and wooden slats, brought in for reinforcing the dugouts.

"I'd be dog-tired if I were you." He yawned loudly and stretched out in a leisurely fashion. "Come to think of it, I am pretty sleepy. Might just catch a minute or two of shut-eye..."

My lips twitched of their own volition and I rolled my eyes as he slumped idly on the makeshift seat and closed his big blue eyes. I couldn't help but notice that he had extraordinarily long lashes that framed his eyes with black curls that matched his hair. I almost snorted to myself as quiet snores started to drift through the early morning air. I would make sure to tease him about that later, as payback for calling me Eddie.

Irritating and artless as Emmett might be, he definitely had a knack of drawing me out of my gloomy meditations. I no longer felt weighed down by worries and responsibilities, and in the cleansing morning sunlight I felt almost light and high-spirited.

Drawing closer the paper that lay practically forgotten on my lap, I picked up my pen and, scrunching the page with the ominous poem scribbled on it, began my letter with renewed vigour.

_Dear Bella,_

_ I love you. I miss you. It has been quiet on the Western Front since I've returned and so I have not seen much action yet. The sunlight is beautiful this morning – _

I frowned when my train of thought was interrupted by a shout from further down the line. I stirred, disgruntled, and twisted to peer in the direction of the shout. I heard nothing further so I returned to my letter, racking my brains for a synonym of 'beautiful' that could adequately describe my vision of Bella in the sunlight.

Only a moment later, however, I was again disturbed by a yell, this one sounding more urgent and much closer to where I was sitting. Sighing quietly, I set aside my pen and paper and stood up to investigate the source of the shouts. I began ambling in the direction of the noise, thinking that maybe there was a fight going on or that some young private had panicked and baulked at an imagined sighting of the enemy.

I could hear running footsteps growing closer to me and in the next second a soldier tore at full throttle through our section of the trench, pushing me out of the way as he ran. His shouts turned my insides to ice.

"Gas!" he roared, banging on anything he passed and yelling until his voice was hoarse. "Gas! Quick! Nearly on us!"

There was a stunned silence from the men who sat enjoying the morning sunshine and then one lieutenant stood up from his game of cards and climbed up to the edge of the trench to peer over the top. Everyone watched him with bated breath as he jumped back down, his face drained and stark white.

"Gas," he confirmed, and suddenly all hell broke loose. The scattering of quiet conversations and games erupted into a riot of activity, and shouts and bellowed orders filled the air as each man rushed for his gas mask. The clanging of a rusty bell made out of old shell canisters rang out over the frenzied tumult, alerting the men further down the line.

"Get your masks on, quick boys!" someone roared and there was a scramble and scuffle as the weakest were pushed to the back. Caught up with the crowd, I surged towards the alcove beside the lookout post where I had stashed my gas mask after my stint on lookout the previous night. I paused only briefly to make sure that Emmett had woken up – he was notorious for being able to sleep through anything – but I was relieved to see that his seat was empty and his black curly hair was bobbing above the crowd as he secured a mask to his face. I started running again, barely noticing the way I was elbowed and jostled in the panic, my lungs already seeming to burn from the gas that had not yet reached our trench.

I lunged for the clumsy gas mask that, miraculously, had stayed hidden so that it had not been seized upon in the chaos, and fumbled inexpertly with the straps. Whilst we frequently underwent drills with our masks, it was quite a different thing putting them on with the deadly fumes mere yards away.

Somehow, I managed to fix the straps around the back of my head and pushed the mask firmly over my nose and mouth, my vision instantly turning green as I peered through the misty glass of the mask. My lungs ached with the adrenaline that caused my heart to beat at a hundred miles an hour and I struggled to breathe in enough oxygen to satisfy the thundering of my pulse. The air in the mask, although filtered and theoretically safe, was musty and dry and caught in my throat as I swallowed it gratefully down.

It was then that I saw it; the first tendrils of a putrid yellow cloud snaking their way through the barbed wire protecting our line and into the trench. The clamour intensified for a moment as those who still had not scrounged gas masks frantically tore through the dugouts in their terror.

The toxic mantle began to sink into and settle over the trembling trench and I stood transfixed, trapped in my torpor by a combination of paralysing fear and morbid curiosity. My limbs turned to iron and I couldn't move a muscle, not an inch, as I watched the noxious gas descend on my brothers as they floundered, desperately trying to escape the cloud with every reserve of energy they possessed.

One, shielding his nose and mouth ineffectively as he ran, managed to secure a gas mask to his face just in time to prevent asphyxiation. Another was not so lucky. He fell to his knees as the nocuous pall engulfed him, coughing and retching as the chlorine saturated his lungs. Not one man moved, made any effort to help him as he slowly choked to death.

I was set in stone and so I just watched, traumatized by his suffering but unable to tear my eyes away. I had thought that I had grown inure to death, immune to the suffering and pain of those around me. This, however, was like nothing I had ever seen before. There was no outside force, no army to fight against or shell to avoid. He was being destroyed from the inside, his own traitor body squeezing the life out of him as it reacted to the lethal gas.

Just before he collapsed, his whole body convulsed and a torrent of foam and blood spewed from his lips, his eyes rolling back into his head as he twitched paroxysmally. Then he slumped and his cheek hit the mud, his corpse slowly starting to sink into the quagmire.

I exhaled slowly and a mist grew up on the inside of the glass of my mask, clouding my vision and rendering me alone in a thick green fog. I made no effort to wipe it away but only waited for it to clear, part of me hoping that it never would. If I didn't see the enemy coming then surely it wouldn't hurt so much. It wouldn't be a bad way to die; oblivious and unafraid.

If I weren't bound to keep my promise to Bella then I might almost be tempted to climb out of the trench and face the bullets. It wasn't that I wanted to die – far from it – but I was also tired of living in fear. I longed for security, craved peace and calm, but I wasn't yet sure of the price I was prepared to pay to get it.

_I long for scenes where man has never trod; A place where woman never smiled or wept._ I just wanted to go home, to see my family and to speak to them, and to hold Bella and kiss her and make her see how much she meant to me, how much I needed her. Who knew how much longer this war could last; a few more weeks, another month, a couple of years still?

So in that moment, I did something I had not done in several months, and not in earnest since I was a child. With the numbing screams of the dying still ringing in my ears and the fog swirling around me due to my warm, ragged breath, I dropped to my knees in the mud. With my head bowed earnestly and my hands clasped together in front of me, I gave myself up to a higher being and I prayed.

_Please, God, _I begged,_ please. Just let me go home._

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_

**Well?**

**I like a bit of angst myself and, although it kills me, writing about the trenches is also incredible. Especially when horrific things like this happen. I feel like I get such an insight into this sort of warfare through researching it and writing through the character's mind. **

**I have a couple of things I need to credit from this chapter so I'll do that now. Firstly, the excuse Emmett uses to cover the lookout (about the pencil) is actually a true story (or at least a version of one) taken from Harold Saunders' autobiography. There was a snippet of it in the newspaper and it was too good to leave out. **

**The poem that Edward remembers is 'I Am' by John Clare. You may have grasped by now that I am a huge fan of poetry (especially if anyone's read 'Swallow Song') and I thought that this particular one was brilliant for Edward to muse on. **

**On that note, much of my inspiration for the gas scene came from Wilfred Owen's wonderful poem, 'Dulce Et Decorum Est'. It's one of my favourites of all time for its power and heartbreaking horror (hehe, I'm getting all alliterative). It roused me to try to include a gas attack in G&R and you see the result before you. Here it is, if you're interested:**

**DULCE ET DECORUM EST - By Wilfred Owen**

****

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,  
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,  
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs  
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.  
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots  
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;  
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots  
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,  
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;  
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,  
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .  
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,  
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.  
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,  
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace  
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,  
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,  
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;  
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood  
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,  
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud  
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,  
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest  
To children ardent for some desperate glory,  
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est  
Pro patria mori.

I actually considered calling this story by the title of the poem, but the ever practical Cullenista talked me out of it (Latin, too complicated, etc). So then I came up with 'Guns and Roses' :) Funny how these things work.

So... You know what I'm going to say now...

REVIEW!

Please?

p.s. Huge 'thank you's to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You put huge smiles on my face :D


	20. Spring In Wartime

**I can't believe this is my twentieth chapter! That's really exciting :) Phew, time flies, doesn't it?**

**Thank you to everyone who's been reviewing, especially those wonderful readers who never let me down (don't worry, I'm not holding you to that :P). I LOVE YOU GUYS!**

***Sniff*, now my emotional moment's out of the way, we can get on with the chapter. It's a pretty damn important one so I hope you can get your head around it.**

**Before we start, a quick note. This chapter is set in Corbie, a small village on the frontline in Northern France. It is about nine miles away from the front at Amiens, where Edward is stationed. Just a little background information to keep you in the loop.**

**Huge thanks to my fabulous beta, Cullenista, who hasn't ditched me even though I scare her with my cryptic remarks. Mwahahaha. Love you :)  
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Spring In Wartime

**BPOV**

_Corbie, April 1918_

"Nurse Taylor, kindly pay attention when I am giving you a demonstration!"

"Yes, Sister Walker, sorry."

"Don't let it happen again."

"No, Sister Walker."

The abashed young woman shuffled her feet and twisted her hands nervously in her new uniform, staring at the ground to avoid meeting the vexed Sister's eye. Sighing, she continued showing our group of new nurses the correct procedure for changing a dressing when the wound had become infected, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Katherine Taylor's attention had once again drifted out of the window.

My eyes followed the path of hers and, for a minute, I allowed my mind to wander from the town-hall-come-hospital-ward out into the spring sunshine that wreathed the village. When I had first arrived, I had been delighted to see that the daffodils had followed me here from Forks and now adorned the green outside the village church, springing from the dewy grass in golden clusters. The sky was a pale blue this morning and only a smattering of milky clouds scudded peaceably across it, framing the old church door with a heap of downy white. The scene would have been picturesque, had it not been for the coils of inky smoke rising on the horizon. The occasional flash of light or muted roar of guns reminded us that this was no postcard.

We were now in our second week of training in the small field hospital in Corbie, a village mere miles from the front line, and I was rapidly settling into the new routine. Considering how short staffed the makeshift hospital was, the newly recruited nurses had been thrown straight into looking after patients and performing the most menial tasks while the more senior sisters took care of the more serious medical aspects. Whenever we could snatch a moment in between waves of incoming patients, we were given lessons about specific procedures, in the hope that we would soon be more of a help than a hindrance.

The weeks since I had left Forks had flown past almost in a haze and I felt emotionally further from my home than I ever thought possible. I didn't want to forget Forks but neither did I want to dwell on those I had left behind. I had come to France to find Edward, and to help the young soldiers who needed me; I could not regret this decision. Every night, though, before I fell asleep, my father's face haunted my thoughts.

He had accompanied me to the station, insisting that he saw me safely onto the train. I didn't have the heart to tell him that when I most needed security, he would be powerless to protect me.

_He held out his hand to help me up into the train, then hefted my trunk up behind me. Grunting and wheezing slightly, he stowed it in a corner of the carriage then climbed down onto the platform again, leaving me standing in the doorway of the train. He shuffled his feet and looked at the ground for a few moments, and I felt tears prickle the backs of my eyes as I watched his discomfort._

_Suddenly desperation overtook me and I leant out of the train to rest my hand on his shoulder, covered by layers of sweaters and his thick wool coat. "Will you be alright?" I asked urgently and he raised his head to meet my gaze, nodding determinedly._

"_Of course, Bella," he reassured me, his voice gruff and slightly strangled. "Don't you worry about your old man. I'll be just fine."_

_The doubt was evidently etched all over my face as he took the hand that rested on his arm and squeezed it comfortingly. "I can look after myself, you know," he teased and I rolled my eyes. Goodness knows how my father would live if he had no-one to take care of him! With foresight, I had arranged for a housekeeper to come in everyday to cook his meals and clean up after him, knowing that he would be incapable of doing these menial tasks himself. I was confident that Mrs Shirley would keep him healthy and comfortable, but it was not the same as caring for him myself._

"_Honestly, Bella, I'll be fine," he insisted as I hesitated on the cusp of the train, half considering jumping back down and taking him home. I scanned his face and was surprised to see that he seemed relatively calm, confident in his assertion that I needn't worry._

"_Alright," I conceded and he nodded, satisfied. _

_Neither of us said anything for a few moments, then he spoke up again. "You will write to me occasionally, won't you Bells?"_

_A lump formed in my throat at his words, his head bowed so that I could not see the expression on his face. "Of course I will," I promised and a quick smile crossed his tight lips. "I'll miss you," I told him, uncomfortable with the turn the discussion was taking but needing him to know that I would think of him._

_At this, he lifted his head once more so that I could see that his face was twisted slightly as he tried to hide his emotion. "I'll miss you, too, Bells," he whispered, swallowing hard, but the sound was almost lost by the whistle that sounded at that moment._

"_I'll see you soon," I vowed and he nodded, trying to be cheerful._

"_Take care of yourself," he charged me anxiously and I smiled._

"_And you."_

_He pushed the door shut and it closed with a clang, firmly making any further goodbyes unnecessary. He knew that I had made my choice and he respected it, even though it was a choice that would take me far away from my home and family obligations. _

_As the train slowly started to chug out of the platform, I raised my hand in an attempt at a cheery wave, and my father smiled and waved back. When he was out of sight, I stood at the window for a moment longer, my palm pressing into the cool steel of the doorframe, then took a deep breath and turned away from Forks. _

_I sat down in the middle of the carriage, pulled a book out of my bag and buried myself in it. For the rest of the train journey, I did not look to the left or right, never giving myself a chance to glimpse the scene outside the window. I did not want to think about what I was leaving behind, only what I was going to find. Thoughts of Edward consumed my mind even as my eyes scanned the words on the page and I knew that I had made the right choice. I would follow him anywhere, hoping that our being together would make everything else just melt away._

The corners of my mouth twitched as I recalled that long train journey where my resolution grew firmer with each mile travelled. I was so sure that being in the same country as Edward would make everything easier, that I could somehow keep him safe just by being in the vicinity. On the contrary, everything I saw here only made me more afraid for his life and for every young man that died in our care, I imagined that five more died in the cold mud.

In the two weeks that I had worked in the field hospital, the word 'Mairie' over the door betraying the intended purpose of the building, I had yet to find any way to meet up with Edward as our duties pulled us in different directions. I knew that he was stationed at Amiens, just less than ten miles away from the village I worked in, but he couldn't get away from the front line. Despite this, it was a comfort just to know that he was near, and I hoped that soon we could get away for long enough to meet up.

A voice broke into my musings and, slightly irritated, I looked up to see where it was coming from.

"Nurse Swan!"

The steely tone of the voice finally alerted me to the situation at hand, and my eyes slowly lifted to meet those of the incensed Sister Martin. In contrast to Sister Walker, the kind but firm nurse mostly responsible for our training, Sister Martin was a demon dressed as a nurse. She was the terror of all the junior staff for her sharp tongue and short temper, and I sighed, realising that I was now going to be on the receiving end of both these fine qualities.

"Yes, Sister Martin?" I replied calmly, meeting her glare with frank innocence.

Her barbed voice rang out in the ward, echoing menacingly off the walls and vaulted ceiling. "You are a disgrace to this hospital! You are a waste of space and a nuisance in this ward! It is unacceptable to be inattentive when being addressed by your superiors. Do you think that dying soldiers appreciate your vacant daydreams?"

"No, Sister Martin." My answer this time was quiet and subdued and she seemed to swell with rage at my meek response.

"You're damn right they don't! You're here to do your duty to your country and to our soldiers. You don't know how lucky you have it! When I was a young nurse –"

"Was that during the Revolution?" someone muttered and the whole room went deathly quiet as Sister Martin's eyes bulged in fury.

"Who said that?" she hissed and the group of young women shied away from her towering wrath, her short, stocky body seeming to swell to epic proportions in her anger.

She surveyed us for a few moments, her eyebrows knitted together over her popping eyes, creating an expression that would have been comical, had it not been so terrifying. As one body, we held our breath as her small blue eyes pierced ours, one by one, searching for those that betrayed their owner's guilt.

Having singled out no culprit, she narrowed her eyes discerningly and swept our ranks once more, turning to Sister Walker to spit out, "Please do continue, Sister. If you have anymore trouble with those lacking commitment, do not hesitate to send them to me."

Sister Walker inclined her head graciously, but as she turned back to the unconscious patient in the bed beside her, I could have sworn I saw her roll her eyes.

The group breathed a collective sigh of relief as Sister Martin skulked away to continue her prowl at the other end of the ward. Nobody doubted that she was an exemplary nurse, but her bedside manner left a little to be desired. She took the opinion that recovery was a psychological decision, and that those who let illness or injury claim them were mentally weak.

She spoke often of her training in South Africa, her birthplace, during the 1880s and how she went on to serve as a nurse in the Second Boer War at the turn of the century. Little, however, was known about her life from this point to her joining the Red Cross, although much was speculated. One opinion was that she had been engaged to a young soldier in South Africa, and when he had been killed, she had been heartbroken and had fled to America to start a new life. Another story went that, as a militant feminist, she had gone to America to fight for women's rights, and towards the end of provoking her into admitting the truth of this, some had taken to spouting lines of _The Angel In The House_ as she passed by.

As Sister Walker talked us through the stages of infection in a bullet wound, low level muttering sprung up amongst the cluster of new nurses and, through my distracted haze, I caught snatches of the conversation. It seemed that some of the girls were discussing the rumour that a regiment was soon to be billeted in the village neighbouring our own, and on hearing this, my heart leapt in my chest. Was it possible that it could be Edward's regiment? Could it be that we would soon be able to see each other again?

My mind was racing throughout the rest of the tutorial and I'm ashamed to say I took little of it in. I was vaguely aware of Sister Walker dismissing the class, and of being hurried along by the crowd to the end of the ward where the supplies were kept. All I could focus on was Edward; my thoughts were filled with his smile that always turned my legs to sand, and the look in his eye that he had on the platform, when we were saying goodbye. I imagined how his eyes would widen when he saw me again, how a smile would light his face and how it would be only moments until he folded me in his arms.

I shook myself out of my daze for long enough to realise that I was now standing alone in the aisle between beds, and that the other nurses were folding bandages and sterilising surgical equipment a few yards away from me. Hastening to join them, I grabbed a roll of gauze and began to cut it into useable sections, rolling them and stashing them in the supply cupboard to my right.

I had, incidentally, found myself standing next to Marie, a shy girl who said little but smiled a lot. We had tentatively struck up a friendship in the brief weeks we had known each other and, little by little, she told me more of her life and her family. I had learnt that she had three younger sisters and an older brother, the latter of whom was currently fighting not far from here. When prompted, she talked of happily of her brother, John, and it was easy to see that she was immensely proud of him and looked up to him as her hero.

Light chatter bounced between the group of us as we worked, and the time passed easily and naturally, the mountainous heap of bandages slowly diminishing into an organised stack. We were starting to wind down our work when we heard a commotion in the hallway outside the ward, and a couple of raised voices, followed by a loud bang. Curious, we looked at one another and tried to peer down the ward in the direction of the disturbance, but stopped hastily when we saw another Sister striding towards us.

When she reached our gathering, she clapped her hands to get everyone's notice and we all jumped to attention. "We have just been informed that an influx of wounded soldiers is on its way here following an offensive, and we need to prepare for their arrival."

Marie and I exchanged worried glances, but the Sister gave us no time to dwell on this news before she began reeling off our instructions, her voice clipped and emotionless. "Nurse Miller, Nurse Allen, Nurse White, Nurse Rodriguez, you will come with me to help the wounded from the ambulances and stretchers. Nurse Cooper and Nurse Bailey, you will prepare the beds for the new patients. Nurse Taylor, Nurse Swan, Nurse Adams, lay out the standard apparatus by each bed. Nurse Saunders, you will kindly run and inform Dr Barnes that he may shortly be needed in the operating theatre."

Having delivered these rapid directives, she turned on her heel and marched back towards the entrance, four of our number scuttling at her heels. There was a flurry of activity as everyone ran to do their respective jobs, fighting over access to the supply cupboard or scrambling to unfold clean sheets with shaking hands. Katherine, Bryony and I scurried around the ward, dispensing kidney dishes, bandages and iodine as disinfectant, as well as more routine supplies such as towels.

Mere minutes later, the double doors at the end of the ward burst open and Nurse Allen ran in, directing the stretcher bearers and ambulance drivers towards the empty beds. Men were wheeled in on gurneys or carried by bands of those from the dressing stations, some unconscious and others screaming in pain. A quick glance over their ranks showed me the severity of their injuries, from those who had lost a limb to those who could scarcely be seen for the coating of mud and gore on their bodies.

The smell of blood was overpowering and I felt the familiar nausea start in my stomach, my vision spotting slightly as I fought the faintness. Blinking rapidly and breathing through my mouth, I forced back the moment of weakness and hastened, if rather unsteadily, towards the nearest bed. Bracing the soldier with hands that would not stop shaking, I helped the stretcher-bearers lift him onto the blanket and propped his head up with a pillow to prevent it lolling disconcertingly.

His eyes were half-open but unseeing and his jaw hung slightly slack, his parched lips occasionally moving slightly, though he did not speak. Dipping my finger in a nearby glass of water, I dabbed the liquid onto his withered lips and dropped a little into his open mouth. He tried to swallow but seemed unable to control his body, although his eyelids fluttered a little.

Blood oozed from his left shoulder and, gritting my teeth determinedly, I leaned in closer to inspect the wound. I saw almost immediately that a shard of shrapnel six inches long was lodged just under his collarbone and the wound was pulsating and haemorrhaging, his blood staining my hands and crisp white uniform. Moving slowly, my touch gentle so as not to cause more damage, I probed the wound with my fingertip, eliciting a tortured moan from his recumbent figure.

Swallowing my pity, I reached for a tourniquet and pressed it firmly to the wound, hoping to stem the bleeding, but to my horror, the lump of skin and muscle slipped as I touched it. I realised that some of his ribs must have collapsed as the flesh gave way beneath me, and my hand started to sink into the man's body. I pulled it back immediately, trying to refrain from gagging, but was pushed out of the way as Sister Martin rushed to the bedside, fluidly injecting him with a syringe of morphine.

As she began work on his wound, I staggered backwards in relief and grasped the bed frame to hold myself upright. I found that my whole body was shaking, out of my control, and I had to exercise all my strength of mind not to collapse in a heap on the floor. My breathing was haggard and erratic so I forced myself to draw slow, even breaths until my head stopped spinning and the urge to retch subsided.

By the time I was relatively calm again, the initial panic of the new arrivals had lessened and everyone was urgently engaged in trying to save as many lives as possible. Already, one body was being covered with a sheet and a couple more looked close to death. I washed my hands thoroughly to remove any trace of the soldier's blood and, scanning the ward for any way in which I could redeem myself for my earlier feebleness, I noticed Marie working alone over one man in the end bed of the ward.

As I approached, I saw that her brow was damp with perspiration as she inspected a leg wound, dabbing it with what, from the smell, was indisputably iodine. The man was caked in blood and dirt so that I could barely see his skin at all, and his eyes were closed in a state of morphine-induced unconsciousness.

Peering over her shoulder, I could make out a flash of white among the mess of blood and muscle on his shin and I swallowed hard when I realised that it was the bone showing through. I refused, however, to lose my nerve again and, instead handed her dressings and bandages as and when she needed them, holding the pin steady when her hand shook too much. Neither of us spoke as we worked, communicating effortlessly through looks alone, and when we were finished, Marie squeezed my hand gratefully, seemingly unaware of the blood that coated our skin.

Cleaning up as best we could in the ward, we kept ourselves busy for the remainder of the afternoon and much of the evening, running errands and fetching whatever was required by the more senior nurses. After the early frenzy, they took over the brunt of the medical work, reducing the new nurses to carrying out the jobs of an orderly, such as holding surgical equipment or cleaning the ward. I was not unhappy with this development; my relief at being absolved from responsibility for another's life was tempered only by the knowledge that I had yet to prove my capability for nursing.

As the work finally slowed and a hush descended on the ward, Sister Martin called me to one side, her face severe.

"Don't think I don't know what was going on earlier, Nurse Swan," she began gravely, and I stared at her quizzically. She went on, "When I came upon you with the soldier with a collapsed rib cage, you were white as a sheet. You looked like you were about to keel over." I said nothing. "Well?"

"I – I was –"

"You were putting your own comfort before that of the patient, that's what you were doing," she told me coldly, and I flinched at the sharp tone to her voice.

"I didn't – I wasn't –"

"We cannot afford nurses who buckle under pressure. As it stands, you are a liability. God knows, we're short-staffed as it is. The last thing we need is a nurse who faints at the sight of blood!"

"No, Sister Martin, I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, make damned sure it never happens again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sister Martin."

"Good. Now go. The table by the bed at the far end still needs to be cleared."

I nodded and she widened her eyes expectantly. "Now!"

I turned and practically fled towards the other end of the ward, hearing the clicking of her shoes on the polished wood as she strode away from me.

When she was gone, I tiptoed past the beds where the sleeping men lay, reaching the end bed where Marie and I had worked together just as the door to the hallway closed, extinguishing all light but that from the lamps that hung at dispersed points along the wall. I hurriedly gathered the pile of unused bandages and stashed them in the cupboard, scouring the surface of the table to remove all traces of blood and injury.

When it was spotless, I turned to go, but a stifled moan from the man in the bed stopped me in my tracks. Turning back, I saw his eyelids flickering and gradually opening, revealing large brown eyes inside, framed by thick lashes. I could make out no more of his features in the darkness, but it was clear that he was awake, deep lines furrowing his brow.

He endeavoured to speak but only managed a rasp, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Where am I?" His voice was gravelly in the quiet ward, rough from lack of use, and hushed so as not to wake those who slept.

I returned to his bedside and smoothed his bedcovers as I answered, "In Corbie. You were injured so they brought you here to the hospital."

He nodded serenely, seemingly unfazed by the news and picked up my hand which rested on the edge of his blanket.

"How badly am I hurt?"

I paused before I replied, not wanting to give alarm, whilst still giving a faithful report. "Not too badly. Your right leg's been stripped of some muscle but, provided infection doesn't set in, you should recover alright. It might take a while, though."

He nodded again, pensively this time, and I watched him with slight anxiety. He surprised me, however, by smiling widely and releasing my hand, letting it fall back to my side.

"Were you here earlier?" he asked, resting his head back on the pillow as if drained. "I think I saw you – before they pumped me with morphine, I mean."

I nodded, my lips turning up slightly at his words.

"What's your name?" he inquired curiously, his eyes staying fixed on me with his cheek pressed against the pillow.

"Nurse Swan," I told him and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Your first name," he pressed and I hesitated before answering, knowing that we were not supposed to be on first name terms with out patients.

His eyes captured mine and held them so persuasively, however, that I relented and told him, "It's Bella."

"Bella." He rolled the name round his mouth then smiled broadly again. "It suits you."

I blushed slightly, glad the darkness would hide my pink cheeks from his eager gaze. "What's yours?"

His smile widened and he answered, "Jacob. Jacob Black."

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**So look who's decided to show his face in 1918! Hmm, thoughts?**

**On another note, the poem mentioned in this chapter is not actually one of my favourites (in fact I haven't even read it all) - 'The Angel In The House'. It is referenced because it was written in 1854 by Coventry Patmore in honour of his wife. He tells us all about how she is the perfect Victorian wife, and so it was widely picked on later by feminists. Virginia Woolf went so far as to say that "killing the Angel in the House was part of the occupation of a woman writer." When the girls quote it, they are just trying to wind Sister Martin up.**

**Sooo...**

**You see that little grey button with green writing on it? It's kind of pretty, isn't it? OK, you're right, it's really not but you never know, it might do something interesting if you press it. Like make a lollipop jump out of the computer screen, or set the lights flashing annoyingly, or even... send me a review. There's only one way to find out ;)**

**AN 5/3/09: Some of the more observant of you might have noticed that I changed Madeleine's name to Marie. This is because I got in a tangle and confused myself writing Chapter 25 so decided I should go back and make them all the same. If you spot any times when I have left the name Madeleine in then please let me know so that I can change them. Thank you :)**


	21. Letters From The Other Side

**This chapter is slightly different from any preceding one. It is comprised solely of letters between the characters but we, of course, only see those that Edward and Bella see. Also bear in mind that most people do not say exactly what they are thinking in a letter so this chapter may be less deep than some others. You have to read between the lines ;)**

**AN 16/7/09: I've decided to change the way this chapter was formatted, so now the sender's name is at the top rather than the fonts being different. Hopefully that will help to clear up any confusion.**

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Letters From The Other Side

_  
Nurse Swan  
Corbie  
__5__th__ May 1918_

Dear Edward,

I miss you. I hope you are keeping well and looking after yourself. You'll think I'm silly but I worry you will forget to take care of yourself in watching over everyone else. Don't prove me right, please.

All is well at home, as far as I know; Alice has been sending me regular updates and my father also writes occasionally. I get the impression that your family are taking very good care of him and I am extremely grateful. I must write to thank them, and I shall, as soon as I am done with your letter.

Here in Corbie, we have been under siege from a new wave of injured soldiers from a recent push. It breaks my heart to see them in pain, especially as when I look at every young face I see yours, Edward. The thought that one day it could be you who needs to be treated fills me with dread and I wish, ironically, that I could take care of you. It has always been the other way around with us and that thought, as almost every one of you, makes me smile.

My nurse's training is almost complete and I am sure I shall pass, although the Sisters frequently despair of me. I am a habitual offender when it comes to spilling and breaking things and, as Sister Martin constantly reminds me, we cannot afford to waste anything. She has me scrubbing the floors in punishment quite twice a week but, goodness knows, I try and cannot help my clumsiness. Some of the other new nurses laugh at me and secretly thank their lucky stars that they don't have my misfortune, but for the most part we get along well.

Only yesterday, Sister Walker set me to changing all the beds along one row of the ward and I put the sheets down on an end table for a moment while I stripped the old linens. When I came back, a tray had been set on top of them and a bottle of iodine was dripping onto the clean sheets. I only turned my back for one minute! I tried to explain to Sister Martin who, just my luck, happened to be passing at that moment, that I really had no idea how they came to have iodine on them, but she was having none of it. So, somehow, I have ended up having to empty all the bedpans for the next week for staining some perfectly good sheets. I suppose it is fair; I should have been more attentive and not left the sheets for a moment, but if anyone else had done what I did then they would have got away with it. These things do seem to happen to me.

I hope I don't bore you with these foolish tales of mine but I imagine that, by telling you, you are almost here with me. Of course, you would not want to be doing the jobs of an orderly in a field hospital, but it comforts me to think of you. You are not so very far away now but it still seems as if an ocean separates us. It is ridiculous that a distance of less than ten miles can seem like a world apart, but with neither of us being free to leave our posts there is little we can do. I suppose you will soon be given leave again, but it does not seem like it can be soon enough. I am a lovesick fool indeed!

I miss you, that is all, and can't wait to see you again. That is not a crime, surely? I love you, but you already know that.

Your Bella

_

* * *

Miss Alice Masen  
Forks  
3__rd__ May 1918_

Dear Bella,

How is life as a nurse? I can well imagine you dressed in your smart uniform, attending to the dashing young men who suffer your ministrations in silence. Promise me you won't trip and spill acid or something over some poor soldier? That does sound like the kind of thing you might do.

All is well here – your father is in fine health and regularly treks miles with mine to find the best fishing spots. I visit him often and he always seems happy to see me, which is gratifying! He has a ready smile for me and usually some story or other about trout, or whatever is his latest catch. You don't need to worry about him at all, Bella, he truly seems in good spirits. He misses you, of course, but is well looked after and happy enough. Mrs Shirley takes good care of him and he has told me a time or two that he enjoys her cooking very much, although he prefers yours, naturally.

My parents and I are keeping well, too, although I miss Jasper dreadfully. We all speak often of Edward and yourself, off on your French adventure without me. I do hope you will tell me all about how it is to be in a foreign country and how it is to be a nurse. If I am not old enough to do it myself then I can at least hear about it from my best friend. I would expect that much of you. Perhaps, in a little over eight months, I can join you in France! We could work together to save all the soldiers' lives! I can see it now!

Please write back to me soon because I miss you terribly. Who am I to spend my days with now that both you and Jasper have left me? I received a letter from him yesterday and he said that his training is going well and that he will soon be going to the front with his new regiment. I worry about him so much, Bella. What if anything should happen to him? I don't know how I could cope, I really don't. And what of Edward? He has been at war for months and months and I never seem to get used to it. Have you had any occasion to see him yet? If you do, you will be sure to write and tell me how he is? I want to hear every detail about the pair of you so please don't disappoint me!

I'm waiting impatiently for your reply.

Your friend,

Alice

_

* * *

Private Masen  
Amiens  
10__th__ May 1918_

Dear Bella,

You cannot imagine what a pleasure it is for me to receive your letters. I could listen to any tale of yours for hours on end and never get bored. Your energy, your very being touches me through the words and they make me feel closer to you. Please promise me you'll never stop writing to me.

I am sorry about the iodine incident although I confess I laughed for a long time when first I read your letter. How is it that these things happen only to you? You have a charm to you, apparently, that seems to attract such luck. It is indubitable that I have been affected by this same charm; only you would fall in love with a man who must spend the next however many months or years fighting in a foreign country. I am grateful, however, for this strange affliction of yours; where would I be without you?

There is little to report on my side as nothing much happens around here. Occasionally there is a bout of shelling and, even more infrequently, a German attack. We have not had one of those for many months and the frontline almost seems to be growing drowsy. All we do, for at least a significant part of the day, is sleep, play cards and wait. There is a lot of waiting; I have grown to be an expert in the field. Sometimes it is interminably boring but it also gives me occasion to reflect. I think I have done more pondering in my months at war than I could ever do during the rest of my life!

The other day I was thinking about the time that we raided Mrs Pritchett's orchard for apples; do you remember? We were only eleven years old and thought it would be clever to find ourselves a stash of snacks. Mrs Pritchett was always so bitter towards us children so we decided that she owed us a few of her apples. The recollection brings a smile to my face; we schemed and planned all morning before executing our raid just before lunch. We were so proud of our little venture!

We climbed over her fence at the back of the orchard – do you recall how your skirt got caught on a splinter and you had to rip it to get free? We snuck towards her apple trees but neither of us had thought to bring a basket or anything so we could only take a handful anyway. You wouldn't let me pick any from the trees so we collected the ones on the ground and you carried them in your apron. I climbed back over first and then you threw them over the fence to me. I seem to remember that we made a pretty quick getaway as Mrs Pritchett chose that moment to come out of her house, furious and brandishing a large wooden spoon! We were in so much trouble for our efforts when she told our parents! Secretly, though, I was still proud of our adventure and told Michael when we got to school the next morning. He was so envious!

It's strange to think that he's dead now; in later years I ceased to harbour much friendly feeling towards him but I never wished him any harm. Alright, you know that's not quite true, but I never wanted him to get really hurt. A swift kick might have done him all the good in the world.

It is memories like this that get me through the monotony; memories and imagining what you are doing at this moment. This afternoon, right now, I think that you are caring for a patient. A young soldier with a leg wound, perhaps, who just needs a friendly smile and a warm bed. That was me only a few months ago and I know that you will take care of him as well as anybody could. I am convinced you will make a wonderful nurse, really I am.

I love you too, of course, and miss you everyday. Ten miles is not really so far and I hear whispers that soon my regiment might be billeted away from the front. If that is true then I will find a way to come and see you – it cannot be so very hard.

Yours,

Edward

_

* * *

Nurse Swan  
Corbie  
17__th__ May 1918_

Dear Alice,

Life as a nurse is treating me well enough, thank you. The work is hard and the hours are long, but the job is certainly rewarding when there is some poor man whom I can help. It does eat away at me to see them in pain but I would not dream of shirking my work and coming home just yet. I need to see this war out and, besides, being here means I am closer to Edward. For that, I would take any hours and work.

The Sisters here are very strict so I must constantly mind that I don't break any of their many rules. I am quite hopeless when it comes to spillages but you know how clumsy I am. Thank you, by the way, for your hilarious quip about my pouring acid over some soldier. I would have you know that would never happen. They never let me near anything dangerous.

Thank you so much for taking care of my father in the way that you do. Your company means the world to him, I know, and your cheerful presence is, I'm sure, as invaluable to him as it is to me. I miss you too, you know, and I wish that my best friend could be here with me. Perhaps some day we shall work side by side but it cannot be just yet. You are still only seventeen, you know. Just a child! Besides, it's a good thing you are there for your mother; I know how concerned she is about Edward keeping safe and she is prone to fretting. Please give her my love and ask her not to worry more than is absolutely necessary.

I am sorry that Jasper had to leave and I hope that it is not too hard for you while he is gone. He will be alright, you know, I'm sure of it. You say you 'know' these things but I have a trick or two up my sleeve. While I'm sure you will worry incessantly, there is no need to sicken yourself with anxiety. I have watched the nurses here save many a life and I am convinced that Jasper will benefit significantly from their care if ever he needs it. Please, Alice, try not to be afraid. I wish I could be there to comfort you, to reassure you, but it is so much harder with the Atlantic between us! You have to have faith that everything will be fine. It's the only way.

I have sadly not yet had a chance to see Edward as he is still at the frontline. When he is given leave or billeted then we might have an opportunity to meet. If that should occur then I assure you that I would relay every particular as to his welfare. As it is, he has written that he is well and that is all the information I have. Faith, remember, Alice?

Remember me to my father and pray that this war will end soon so that we can all come home.

Yours,

Bella

_

* * *

Mrs Elizabeth Masen  
Forks  
6__th__ May 1918_

My dear Edward,

How are you? I hope that you are keeping warm and well fed and that life as a soldier is not treating you too hard. Your father and I think of you often and we wonder what you are up to. Sometimes I think it must be very exciting to be in France, being a soldier and fighting the Germans to protect us all. Other times I think that I should not like it all as I should get so homesick. We are very proud of you, though, my brave boy.

Do you need any more socks? Alice and I knit and sew diligently everyday to make clothes for our soldiers overseas and I would be pleased to send them to you if you require more. We do the little we can to help. Your father is very busy with his work and fishing but sends his fond regards.

Charlie Swan has been spending much more time at our house since dear Bella went off to France and we often talk of how we miss her. I am quite overjoyed that you and Bella are sweethearts as we love the pair of you dearly. I think that a spring wedding would be lovely and I'm sure that the war cannot go on that much longer. When they are finished fighting then you shall both come home and be married in the church in town. I will invite the whole neighbourhood and it will be a glorious affair. I do wish the war would end soon!

I have a lunch with some other ladies from town so I must go now, my dear. Please do write to me as I so want to hear about how you are doing. Do that for your mother, won't you?

Write soon, my precious boy, and I'm certain I shall see you before long. Surely the war is almost over?

Your loving Mother

_

* * *

Nurse Swan  
Corbie  
15__th__ May 1918_

Dear Edward,

I seem to miss you especially today. Perhaps it is the fact that it is approximately three months ago that I last saw you and that the weight of this realisation presses down me. Perhaps it is simply that I love you more each day. Either way, I want to see your face more than ever this evening.

Today has been a quiet day as far as I'm concerned. We only lost two men, a rare occurrence around here, and few have come in. There seems to be a lull around the front at this time and fewer soldiers are fighting and getting hurt. I try not to worry unnecessarily but it almost seems to me that the Generals are engaged in preparation. For what, I cannot be sure, but I know that it cannot be good news for the soldiers who must do their bidding.

I see too many young boys, barely my own age, who do not know what they fight for. It breaks my heart to hear them cry out, begging not to be sent back to the trenches, screaming for their mothers. Some die and those who do not are patched up and sent back, despite their pleas. We cannot help them in that respect and Sister Walker assures me that it is out of our hands. It is not up to me who fights and who does not, but if it were I can assure you that the Generals would find their armies greatly reduced.

I could not believe it when I read your last letter where you talked of the time we took the apples from Mrs Pritchett's garden. Of course I remember! The scars I got from the lashing that night are not ones I shall forget easily! My father was so angry, I recall, that he threatened that you and I should not play together anymore, at which I cried so hard that my mother begged him to reconsider. The prospect of not seeing you so much was more terrible to me than any hiding. You've always been my world, and it was you who kept me together when she died. I can't believe that's more than five years ago now.

I had forgotten about catching my skirt as we scaled the fence. Of course, I remember how I got so impatient that I simply tore it free and kept climbing. My mother was incensed that I'd been so careless and stood over me while I mended it to her satisfaction. It was worth the trouble, though, for the look on Mrs Pritchett's face when she saw us bolt! At the time I was terrified but there is nothing like hindsight to bring new humour to a situation. She was a horrible, cranky woman, but I am sorry now if we upset her. That was never really my intention.

I could not believe it on reading your letter but, of course, you and Michael were once good friends. He was always very affable towards me, although a little clingy, perhaps, so I never understood why your estimation of him changed so rapidly. It was when we were fourteen or fifteen, was it not, that you two stopped being friends? Why was that? It is another little mystery that I have never solved.

I am truly sorry that he was killed and, I can tell you, it was a very great shock to hear of it. That was the first time I realised the true danger of the war and I almost wish I never had. It would be easier to function had I gone on believing that the war was nothing more than a great adventure, but Michael's death showed me the error in my thinking. Nothing has ever scared me so much as the idea that I might lose you. I couldn't survive that; really, I couldn't.

I hope that the rumour about your regiment being billeted soon is true. If I could see you then I could almost pretend that we are at home again. When the war is over, perhaps we could walk in the meadow by the brook again and sit under the shade of the trees as we did on so many summer days, eat an apple perhaps, although one procured by legal means. It seems like a simple ambition, but even that appears out of reach right now.

Now there remains nothing further to say than that I love you, as always. That does not change, even when all else around me does.

Love,

Bella

_

* * *

Charlie Swan  
Forks  
10__th__ May 1918_

Dear Bella,

I wanted you to have a note from your old man so that you know that all is well here. I am busy enough but not too much so as to make you worry, and I spend my weekends fishing happily with Ed Masen. I'm fine, Bells, honestly.

I hope that you are alright all the way over in France and, while I understand that you are not a child anymore, I cannot help but worry about you a bit. I'm not sickening myself, though, so don't get anxious. I can look after myself and, besides, Mrs Shirley is even stricter than you. She makes sure I eat and rest well and you'd have your work cut out to be as stubborn as her!

I miss you, Bells. It's not the same round here without you. The house is much quieter and feels like there's something lacking in the still rooms. Mrs Shirley makes it cheerful for me and I am quite comfortable, but she will never be you.

That's all now, except to say that I love you, Bells. Remember your old man when you're off discovering new things.

From your affectionate Father

_

* * *

Private Masen  
Amiens  
28__th__ May 1918_

Mother,

Thank you for your letter and food parcel – it is much appreciated by all of us here in Amiens. I can assure you that I am perfectly well and that you needn't worry about me more than you deem absolutely necessary. I'm sure that will be more than enough.

If I were you I would most certainly not wish to be fighting in France. Our lives here are not enviable and you would be a fool to want to emulate them. Don't be anxious, though – there has been very little action here for some time so mostly our lives consist of playing card games and writing letters. You would not enjoy the monotony, I know – you like to be busy, don't you?

Thank you for the offer of socks but I am better supplied than any other soldier could ever hope to be. Send them instead to the Red Cross who will happily receive and distribute any donations. Your efforts will not go unappreciated, I promise you.

I am pleased to hear that Mr Swan does not spend his evenings alone and I'm sure Bella will be glad to discover the same. But please, Mother, do not speak to Bella of marriage or spring weddings. I know you are eager but we are not engaged and even if we were, this is no time to be planning a grand wedding. Please stop speculating about such things; I assure you that if I ever decide to get married, you will be the first to know.

I hope that you, Father and Alice are all keeping well and try not to worry about me too much. I'll be fine, you know – I've always been resilient.

Love,

Edward

_

* * *

Private Whitlock  
Compiègne  
23__rd__ May 1918_

Dear Bella,

I am writing to you so that you know that I am alright. I'm not sure what accounts you might have heard of my wellbeing from Alice, but I can assure you that I am quite as well as I can be under the circumstances. She is rather prone to worry and exaggeration, I fear, and I do not want you to get the wrong impression about my position at present.

My regiment is billeted in a town a few miles away from the frontline while we undergo the final stages of our training, and even from this distance we can see and hear the shells falling on our own and enemy lines. The sporadic chimes of distant explosions keep me awake sometimes, like a macabre pulse counting down the minutes until I face the guns myself.

I have never been a fortunate man as such, Bella, and I confess that I have few hopes of being lucky in this war. I shall fight with constancy and courage, if I can summon it up, but that is all I have to offer. Please, don't breathe a word of this to Alice for I think it would undo her, but I suspect that I might not make it through this war. If I should become just one on a long list of casualties, please promise me that you will take care of Alice. Don't let her come to any harm; keep her well and happy and safe for me, won't you? If I cannot do it myself then you are the next best person – together with Edward, of course.

Alice told me about the two of you but I had already seen enough to guess for myself. I hope you don't mind that I know your secret – although I suppose it is not so secret anymore – and I wish you every happiness. I hope that you two have a long and happy life together, as I know that you deserve it better than anyone. The two of you will come through this war, I can just feel it.

So long, Bella. I'll let you know if there's any news from either the front or at home but in the mean time, look after yourself. You nurses are doing a great job with our men and we need you now more than ever. I know you won't let us down.

Jasper

_

* * *

Private Masen  
Amiens  
29__th__ May 1918_

Dearest Bella,

I'm not at all surprised that you miss me so much. I am incredibly lovable! I miss you, too, and I need no reason to do so. Loving you is reason enough.

My part of the frontline has been quiet too, now, for some time and it makes me slightly uneasy, I confess. It is distinctly possible that another important offensive is being planned, but there is nothing I can do to confirm or deny that. We, the mere foot soldiers, are not privy to the plans of the puppet masters.

I'm glad you remember our escapade with Mrs Pritchett's apples. That was one of my proudest boasts for many years! Eclipsed only, perhaps, by the time we snuck out of the classroom window when Mrs Baker was teaching Geography. I've never laughed so hard in my entire life as I did that afternoon.

It's true, Michael Newton and I were once friends and I'm surprised you had forgotten. It was not so long ago. I never thought I'd tell you this, but the reason we fell out was that we had a fatal difference of opinion. You're right; we were fifteen years old when it happened and both growing up rather quickly. I began to notice the way he was looking at you differently (please don't think badly of me for telling you this) and I was unhappy with the direction his thoughts were taking. I knew him well enough to know that he was harbouring feelings for you and I was, childishly, angry about that.

One afternoon, after school, I confronted him and he admitted that he admired you, and told me that he wanted to ask you to be his sweetheart. I can't remember exactly what my reply was, but I'm sure it was not particularly cordial. He took that to be a challenge and, assuming that I was also competing for your affections, lashed out at me. When the groundskeeper pulled us apart ten minutes later, we were both sporting black eyes and bruised egos. I was too ashamed to tell you that I had got into a fight over you when I had no claim over you myself, but I fancied I was protecting you.

I'm sorry if you find this offensive in any way but you asked for the truth. At the time I did not recognise what I was feeling when it came to you – although I knew, of course, that you were pretty and that I wanted to spend all my time with you. I was foolish then; you are nothing short of beautiful and if I could, I would never leave your side. I can't believe I wasted two years through my own stupidity.

Bella, part of your last letter terrified me and I need to be sure that you didn't mean it. You said that you could not survive without me, but I need you to take that back. I need to know that, should anything happen to me, you would be alright, that you would be strong. I need to know that you would not wallow and throw away your life – you have so much in front of you, Bella. You have so many things to do and so many people to meet and I could not take any of that away from you. You must promise me this. Please, Bella, I need you promise me that you'll survive, no matter what. Do this one thing for me, please?

I know that I made you a promise and I still have every intention of keeping it. I promised that I would come back to you and I will, you can count on me. I won't let you down.

I love you, my Bella.

Edward

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Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I do my utmost to get back to everyone who makes the effort to let me know what they think. I really appreciate every review!**

**Yet another thank you to Cullenista for her help on this chapter :) She never lets me down.**

**I would love it if you would drop me a quick line for my troubles with this chapter - what do you think of the format? I mean, it's not a regular thing, but do you think it worked?**

**Go on, you know what to do :)**


	22. Ubique

**Hey guys!**

**OK, I really feel I owe you an apology. This is the longest time I've ever not updated for and it feels bad. I'm not saying that this will never happen again but still, I'm easily guilt-tripped (might be handy for future reference). Unfortunately, I have only myself to blame...**

**Anyway, enough with the pity party and on with the chapter! This is a necessary transitional one so it's not the most exciting ever, but comfort yourself with the knowledge that there are good things to come!**

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Ubique

_June 1918_

**BPOV**

The birds twittered brightly outside the town hall in the early dawn, the first tendrils of pink light coiling through the small windows set high in the stone walls. The hall seemed a formidable place when first I arrived here, almost a forgotten medieval fortress, but after a short time I started to see the many hues in the grey stone slabs, tinting the room with streaks of colour.

The ward was quiet as dawn broke, the trilled songs of the birds floating through the windows in a calming, uplifting way. I refrained from breaking into song myself as I worked, preferring to protect the innocence of the sleeping patients' ears, but inside I felt as if I could be soaring with the birds through the warm summer air.

Unfortunately, however, my task was more mundane and, scrubbing brush in hand, I attacked the wooden floorboards with a vigour that they had probably never seen before. As punishment for upsetting a stack of freshly sterilised scalpels the day before, I had been set the task of cleaning the whole floor by myself, and it was an arduous one. Nevertheless, this morning I bore it with good grace and set to work with an optimistic air that was the bane of Sister Martin's life. She was not a believer in kind words and cheery whistles, but rather of hard work bearing fruit in the end.

I hummed quietly to myself as I knelt on the hard wood, dipping my hands and brush into the cold water and sloshing it contentedly all over the floor. I worked my way from one side of the ward to the other, skirting round the beds that held sleeping soldiers, feeling at peace as I listened to the even breathing and occasional snuffles and snores that filled the room.

I was leaning down to scour an exceptionally stubborn stain on the wood when a quiet voice cut through the still morning air. "You're very cheerful this morning. Have I missed something?"

I started at the voice, jumping to my feet and knocking the almost full bucket so that water splashed all down my front. I gasped at the cold seeping through my uniform and pulled it away from my skin, wringing it out as best I could while it was still on my body. A few yards away, a voice let out a low snigger.

My head snapped up and I found myself looking into the eyes of Jacob, one of the soldiers recuperating in the hospital, who was now clearly awake. Over the last month or so we had become good friends and, while he was on the mend, his wound was still such that he had trouble with his mobility. Consequently, he was one of the few patients who was checked in for a longer stay in our makeshift hospital, although after a time he would be inevitably transferred to a civilian hospital to make room for the new hordes of wounded.

He smiled amusedly at me and I scowled at him, only causing his laugh to louden, until he smothered it in his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to startle you. But your face –"

He set off into another peal of chortles and I glared ineffectually for a few moments until I finally succumbed and joined in with an embarrassed laugh, my face flushing red.

"I didn't know anyone was awake," I explained when he calmed enough to keep a straight face, and he smiled apologetically.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. You were rivalling the birds outside for tuneless warbling."

I glowered at him and turned to stalk away, but he called after me, "Oh, Bella, don't be like that! Stay, please; I promise I'll be good."

I paused and grimaced, before rounding on my heel and going to sit on the edge of his bed. He smirked in satisfaction, catching my hand in one of his own, larger ones and squeezing it gently. I smiled back but removed my hand from his clutches, folding it in my lap and trying to ignore his slightly hurt expression.

"How are you feeling today, Jacob?" I asked, smoothing his covers, and he shrugged casually.

"Same old same old. You know how it is. Shell wounds and all that. I'll live."

His tone was blasé but pained and I rolled my eyes at his theatrics, smiling wryly at him as I replied, "I'm sure you will. In the mean time, however, you'll milk your injury for all it's worth."

"A man's got to get some love somewhere," he retorted and I rolled my eyes again, edging slightly further away from him as he gazed softly at me. "Bella," he started, then hesitated, chewing the inside of his cheek.

"What is it Jacob?"

"Oh, nothing."

I sighed, casting my eyes to the heavens. "Jacob?" I asked warningly, my tone impatient.

"It's just – well, you told me about this Edward of yours," he began hesitantly, and I raised my eyebrows, motioning for him to proceed.

"Yes," I prompted him when he paused again, waiting for him to say whatever was causing him so much aggravation. "Jacob, just spit it out, please."

"Well, I was wondering," he continued slowly; "what would you do if he died?"

I immediately leapt up from the bed, bringing my hands up to twist agitatedly in my hair as he looked on, waiting for me to respond. "God, Jacob, I don't even want to think about that!"

"No, I know, but I was specifically curious, see, whether you think you could ever love somebody else?" His voice trailed off by the end and he looked away from me awkwardly, busying himself with a loose thread on his blanket.

I stared blankly at him for a moment, my jaw dropped in disbelief, before I snapped it closed. "No, Jacob," I told him firmly but not unkindly. "I don't think I could ever love anyone else."

He frowned, still engrossed in picking at the blanket, and I watched warily for his reply. "I don't see how you can know that," he mumbled, not looking at me. "You haven't even tried."

"Jacob," I called, pulling his attention to me and waiting until his eyes met mine. "I don't want to talk about this. I love Edward and I always will. I'd prefer not to discuss it anymore."

He was silent for a moment, then a wide smile spread across his face.

"What's that for?" I asked cautiously.

"Oh, nothing," he replied airily, waving one hand casually by his head. "I just think you underestimate yourself. Or perhaps you underestimate other men."

I waited, hands bunched into fists by my side.

"I think that you could fall in love with someone else," he pronounced confidently and I let out a small growl. Spinning with uncharacteristic grace, I stomped away from the bed containing the most vexing of people and roughly grabbed my bucket and brush again.

"Bella," he called after me, as loud as he dared without wakening the other patients or alerting the Sisters, but I ignored him.

Stubbornly dunking the scrubbing brush in the cold suds-lined water, I began my ministrations on the floor once more.

**EPOV**

The sun was blazing over the trenches this warm morning in early June, and I stretched out for a moment, allowing the delicious feeling to wash over me as I basked in the sunlight. It transported me instantly back to sunny afternoons in Forks, lazing by the brook or running through the meadow with Bella. These memories were pleasant this morning, not marred by guns or the prospect of a near attack. The outlook this morning was much more cheerful; in mere hours we would be stationing ourselves in Allonville, a small village a few miles north of Amiens. Soon, we would be out of the trenches.

The men were in high spirits as they packed their kit bags, myself included, looking forward to the few days' rest that a billet would provide. More importantly, in my case, I was determined that those few days should include seeing Bella, even if it meant I got no sleep and walked the miles to her hospital everyday. These seemed like minor inconveniences in the face of this fortune.

Emmett chattered cheerily to me as he forced his jacket roughly into his over-stuffed kit bag, not wanting to be weighed down in this summer warmth. He had received a letter from His Rose this morning and was happily spouting lines of it to me as we prepared to leave.

"Edward – Edward, listen to what she says here: 'Royce King tried to tell me he thought I was beautiful the other day but I told him exactly what he could do with his slimy compliments.' Did you hear that? That's my Rosie."

"That's great, Emmett," I murmured distractedly as I rerolled my emergency bandages so that they would fit inside my mess tin.

"I can't wait to go home," he sighed contentedly, perusing his letter for the fifth time.

"You and me both," I replied and we stood still for a moment in the sunlight, neither of our minds focused on the march ahead but rather on the people and places that were now so far away.

Emmett was the first to snap out of the reminiscences, being an essentially practical person, and he clapped me on the back, stirring me back into action. "It's alright for you, man," he told me jovially as he bent over to swing his pack onto his back. "Your Bella's only a few miles away from here. You planning on going to see her while we're on billets?"

"Yeah," I grinned, hoisting my pack on as well. "Yeah, I am."

"You'd be out of your mind to pass up this opportunity," he said and I nodded in agreement.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

He stood still for a moment, surveying me shrewdly before exhaling loudly and resting a hand heavily on my shoulder. "You got it bad for her, haven't you?"

I looked up at him in surprise, noting how his thick eyebrows were drawn close together as he frowned slightly. "I love her," I told him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He stared at me for a few moments longer then released my shoulder, sighing quietly. "Just watch yourself, alright? I know you; you feel everything too much. Just be sure she's worth it."

"She is," I told him quietly, but he didn't miss the steely tone in my voice.

"Alright, I believe you," he hastily pacified me. "I really hope she makes you happy."

I nodded, a small smile playing at the edge of my lips as I thought about Bella. "She does. You don't have to worry about me, anyway. I can look after myself."

His booming laugh filled the trench as we strode forwards again. "I know that. How many times have you covered my back out here?"

I just grinned and we walked in companionable silence to join the rest of our regiment, beginning our few miles' trek to the village where we would be billeted.

The formation was loose as we marched, so after a while I found myself next to Ben Cheney, who I had remained good friends with since our crossing together. Ben was never one to speak if he didn't have something to say, so we walked together for several minutes before he interrupted the comfortable lull in conversation.

"Edward," he began hesitantly and I turned my head to look at him, waiting for the next part. "Would you help me with something?"

"'Course I would, Ben," I assured him. "What is it?"

"It's Angela," he confessed and I grinned, slapping him on the back in comradeship.

"How's it going with her?" I asked and he smiled sheepishly, hanging his head to inspect the mud on his boots.

"She's incredible," he whispered and I smiled quietly to myself as I remarked how much happier he'd seemed recently. "We've been writing to each other. She writes the nicest letters. Her English is very good, you know."

"I remember." I did remember that night all too well. Tanya's face caked in thick makeup haunted my thoughts in still moments. I shuddered in the warm air. "So what's the problem?"

"There's no problem. I just want to see her and I wondered if you would help me."

"Go see her? In Brest? That's three hundred miles away!"

"I know," he murmured quietly, "but please, Edward? I really want to see her. I think – I think I'm in love with her."

I was silent for a moment at this revelation, the challenges of the task sinking in. I knew that I could not deny Ben my help; God knows, I would travel as many miles as it took to see Bella. We were only likely to be billeted for a week at most, and the journey would take several hours each way. If we could catch a train from Allonville then it would be relatively easy, but I vaguely recollected hearing that it was only a small village. We might have to travel back into the town of Amiens to find a station; it could be done but it would be a long trip.

"Alright," I said finally, and I heard Ben let out the breath he must have been holding for some time. "Alright, I'll help you. It can't be that difficult."

"Thank you," Ben breathed and I smiled and nudged him with my elbow.

"You didn't think I'd let you down, did you? You can count on me, you know."

"I know."

The rest of the short march passed in relative quiet between us, both of us absorbed in our own thoughts of what awaited us when we were settled. I could not extract my mind from imagining what it would be like when I saw Bella again. I would have to restrain myself from launching myself at her, I thought, and snatching her up in my arms. If I just picked her up and whisked her away, what would the Sisters at the hospital say? It was probably better not to risk such impropriety.

It was early afternoon when we saw Allonville approaching on the country road, and the raucous songs died down as a collective sigh went up among the men. Most were not sentimental at the sight of the picturesque village nestled in the countryside, but the prospect of a soft bed and a good meal warmed us to the core.

We trooped into the village, greeted by stares and the occasional smile from the residents of the village. We were shepherded towards a large farmhouse at the edge of the village, outside which we were told we could sit down and rest for a few minutes.

Rapid negotiations then commenced between our commanding officer and the farmer, terms and offers being bandied around until, finally, they shook hands and the former approached our regiment again. I couldn't help but notice that he looked dissatisfied, but he ordered us to our feet and directed us towards a large barn a small distance from the farmhouse. "You'll be sleeping in there."

Immediately, a cry broke out over the group of weary soldiers. "What? I thought we were getting proper beds!"

"Where's our running water?" another cried.

The commander's face hardened. "Listen, that farmer drives a hard bargain so you can either take what he's offering or sleep out in the fields. Which is it to be?"

Grumbling quietly, the regiment moved into the proffered barn and dumped their packs in the straw. Shortly after, groups began divvying up the space and Emmett, Ben, Elliot and I grabbed a corner and lined it with straw. Although the barn was not what many had hoped for, we were also promised a hot meal and that was enough to leave a good number contented. Laying down on the scratchy mounds, I felt my eyes drift closed and sleep start to overtake me as I was presented with the first restful moment in days.

My repose was soon disturbed, however, by a booming order that rang through the barn. "On your feet, men! You're going to strip and line up to be hosed down, alright? No complaints, single file, now."

Muttering and complaining, we got to our feet and trudged out to the courtyard to watch as tin baths and buckets full of cold water were set up. Grumbling, we stripped ourselves naked and handed the filth-ridden clothes to a local girl who blushed and giggled as she collected them and ran off to have them washed. We shuffled forwards in our lines to be handed a small hunk of grey soap to share and have a bucket of the cold water tipped over our heads. Soon, soaking wet and cold despite the warm sunlight, we were rinsing ourselves down, scrubbing our mud-caked skin with the rough soap.

An hour later, skin clean and pink from the rubbing and cold water, we shrugged into scrounged spare clothes and lounged on the piles of straw, talking amiably and discussing what we would be doing in our few days away from the front. We were paid then, in five-franc notes, and immediately men began looking for ways to spend it. There was a tavern or two in the village, so large groups set out to find some semblance of entertainment, wages clutched in their hands and followed by the order to be back by nine o'clock, sober.

Emmett persuaded me to tag along with one of the groups, so he, Ben, Elliot and I made our way down to the village in search of the promised taverns. The dark of the night was comforting, cloaking us in a blanket in a way that was so different from the heavy torpor of darkness in the trenches. I also welcomed it as it meant that I no longer had to make such an effort to control my face so that my friends would not guess that my mind was not with them. I knew that it was too late to visit Bella tonight, but it was my express intent the very next morning.

We settled ourselves in one of the few bars, ordering a drink each and talking lightly about anything but the war. The evening passed easily and fairly quickly; even Elliot was in good spirits and complained little, save for the odd grumble about the state of the building and the beverages.

We wended our way slowly back to the barn just after nine, not drunk but not entirely sober either. Behind us, other men from our regiment lurched unsteadily in the darkness, clutching onto each other for support and laughing loudly as they staggered. We made our way back to the barn and collapsed on the straw, some falling straight to sleep while others whispered quietly by the light of the stars shining through a crack in the roof.

I lay awake on my side, watching the crowd of soldiers sprawled across the barn. I didn't listen to their murmured conversations but I could not ignore them either. Beside me, Emmett snored soundly and I wished that I could join him, but my mind seemed firmly tied to consciousness tonight. I sighed and shifted to my back, gazing at the sprinkling of stars visible through the poorly repaired roof. Tracing patterns in the heavens, I passed several hours peacefully, not asleep but rested nonetheless.

Eventually, I accepted that sleep would evade me and gave myself over to the violent emotions coursing through my body. Tomorrow, I would do whatever it took to see Bella. I was determined, unshakeable. Tomorrow.

* * *

**So things are definitely hotting up now. _Tomorrow._ Ooh, sends shivers down my spine, lol. **

**Another thing I wanted to tell you guys is that I have made a live journal account and I'm feeling pretty lonely over there. To be brutally honest, I don't have a clue what I'm doing and it would be really nice if you would add me, if you have accounts. I'm using my pen-name so I'm easy to find and anyway, I'm the pathetic one with only two friends :P lol.**

**Soooo.... If I ever go too long without updating again then PM me!! If I don't have a decent excuse then feel free to throw rotten fruit - really whatever it takes :) I hope to have the next chapter out in another few days so check up on me if I don't. Really, any excuse to hear from you guys is fine by me ;)**

**And in the meantime... You know what to do. REVIEW!**


	23. For All We Have And Are

**AAAAAHHHHH!!! **

**I feel like I want to cry. Fanfiction is back!! Wooooo!**

**Thank God. I think I was about to strangle the computer (not sure quite how the specifics of that would work...) if they displayed that damn error message one more time.**

**Sigh. I can be calm now.**

**So, anyway, it took me a little longer to get out this chapter, even though I've had it ready for a while. I'm sorry about that but there wasn't really much I could do about it :(**

**This is a celebratory chapter, then, so we can all be happy :D It's dedicated to every author on this site, as well as every wonderful reviewer who couldn't do their reading/writing/reviewing while the LOGIN facility's been down.**

**Enjoy!**

**Oh, no, wait! I need to give HUUUGE thanks to the lovely Cullenista for her usual superb beta work. She gives me warm fuzzies (when she's not writing my neck for terrible plot lines :P). **

**One more thing, before I release you to read this chapter. I don't know if you're interested in hearing what music is in my mind when I write chapters? Usually, it's nothing in particular - just my favourites - and not worth mentioning. This chapter, however, is an exception so I thought I'd mention the song, just in case you're interested. While I was writing this story, I was listening to Eva Cassidy's version of 'Over the Rainbow' (over and over again) which, by the way, is absolutely beautiful. I love her songs. If you would like to get the full effect then give it a go - I'll give you a heads up in the chapter when it becomes appropriate. The link's on my profile, if you want to listen to it as you read.**

**Now, finally, on with the story...**

* * *

For All We Have And Are

**BPOV**

Jacob grinned up at me as I stood by his bed, fluffing his pillows while he leaned forward slightly. I shook each one out and plumped them so that he'd be comfortable, and he smiled his thanks.

"Do you take care of all the patients like you do me, or is it just because I'm your favourite?"

I laughed quietly as I propped his pillows up supportively, pushing gently on his shoulder so that he would lean back on them. "You're definitely my favourite," I told him teasingly, "but don't tell the others."

"Your secret's safe with me," he said in a mock conspiratorial whisper and we grinned at each other.

"I have to go and look after the other patients now," I told him. "They deserve a little attention too." I winked at him and he smiled, then I turned to walk away from his bed. He caught my arm, however, and I looked back to see him gazing at me with a pitiful expression on his face.

"Won't you please stay with me a little longer?" he asked, pouting slightly and I rolled my eyes at his performance. "I think my pillows need a little more fluffing."

"Your pillows are just fine," I told him shortly and he chuckled at my abruptness.

"Can I have a glass of water, then? Please?"

"Yes, Jacob, you can have a glass of water," I told him, feigning impatience, and he smirked wickedly.

"Thank you, Nurse Swan," he said cheekily, and I rolled my eyes again, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

"I'll be right back," I told him, and turned away to fetch a glass from the supply cupboard at the other end of the ward.

As I began to make my way over there, however, something moving by the door attracted my eye and I froze, my breath catching in my throat when I saw who it was. Framed in the doorway, like a Renaissance masterpiece, stood Edward, bronze hair gleaming in the sunlight and a murderous expression painted across his face. I gaped, my jaw hanging open as I stared at him, taking in every detail of his person as he stood there.

He was not looking at me, however, but glaring past me at something behind my back. His eyes were narrowed and his lips pressed tightly together in an expression that I recognised all too well from our shared childhood, and his emerald eyes almost seemed to have blackened with anger. I was about to look round to see what was upsetting him so much, when his gaze snapped to mine and our eyes locked together. I felt the familiar sensation of falling into those gleaming jewels, losing myself entirely as we looked at each other. My heart was racing and inside, I was jubilant, hysterical laughter threatening to bubble out of me at the utter cliché of our situation. At that moment, however, I could not summon the energy to care.

My favourite crooked smile spread slowly across his face and I swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were stinging the corners of my eyes. We were still thirty feet apart and suddenly the distance was too much and I needed to feel him, to hold him in my arms to be sure that he was real.

Without warning, my feet were carrying me towards him at a speed that was extremely hazardous considering my chronic clumsiness, but that fact didn't even register with me. All I was aware of was the fact that only a few moments later, I threw my arms around his neck, holding him close as if my grip alone could keep us together forever. I felt his much stronger arms wrap around my waist and he lifted me from the ground, holding us so close that I could feel every inch of his muscular torso pressed against mine.

Burying my face in his neck, I just breathed him in, never wanting to let go. He held me tightly, never losing his balance as he supported my weight, and pressed his lips gently to my collarbone. We stayed like this for a few moments that felt like an eternity, before we were shaken out of our trance by a hasty whisper to one side of us.

"Bella!" Marie hissed, but I ignored her, brushing away her voice to lose myself further in the wonder that was Edward. She did not give up, however. "Bella!" she whispered, louder this time. "Sister Martin!"

These were the words that were needed to penetrate my ecstatic haze and I hurriedly detached myself from Edward, straightening my skirt and blouse in time for Sister Martin to stalk round the corner from the office on one of her patrols. I smiled a nervous greeting at her as she passed, and she paused before the pair of us, eyeing Edward with suspicion.

Too late, I realised that we were standing closer together than was normal in social situations, and if I were to sidle away then she would undoubtedly notice.

"Nurse Swan, who is this young man?" she asked sharply, and I swallowed hard before answering.

"Sister Martin, this is Edward Masen. We are old friends."

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she surveyed the two of us, before pointedly dropping her gaze to stare first at mine, then Edward's ring fingers, which were both bare. "I see."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward raise his eyebrows in surprise as her sharp gaze met his, but he looked away in deference nonetheless.

"Well, Nurse Swan," Sister Martin went on when her inspection of Edward was complete, "I suggest you get on with treating the patients. Old friends," he gaze flickered back to Edward momentarily, "can wait."

"Yes, Sister Martin."

"Go! Now!"

I hurriedly turned on my heel and walked briskly towards the nearest patient, burying my face in his chart, which was luckily on a table at the end of his bed. Over the top of it, I saw Sister Martin look Edward over once more before striding away, heels clicking on the hard wood floor.

Lowering the chart in relief, I glanced over at Edward who looked bemused and slightly alarmed. I suppressed a laugh at his expression and mouthed, "My shift ends in ten minutes," holding up ten fingers to be sure I got my message across. He nodded but stayed where he was, leaning casually against the doorframe as he watched me.

Flushing bright red, I looked around for someone who needed my help, and my gaze fixed on a stack of kidney dishes in the sink that were waiting to be sterilised. I began making my way to them, but tripped over my own feet halfway across the ward and caught myself on a bed frame. When I looked quickly towards the door to see if Edward had noticed, I saw him muffling a laugh by biting his knuckle. If possible, my blush darkened.

The next few minutes were torture; knowing that Edward was watching me increased my clumsiness tenfold. I dropped a kidney dish in the steel sink with a resounding clatter, and Sister Martin swept out of the office to see what the commotion was. When I risked a glance back at the door after that, Edward was gone.

My shift was scheduled to end at ten o'clock, and the seconds ticked by agonisingly slowly as I cleaned the dishes and made a quick round to check on the patients. When I reached the end bed, I found Jacob watching me with a fed-up expression. "Bella, can I please have a glass of water?"

"Oh, Jacob, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot!"

"I noticed," he retorted dryly but with a hint of petulance, and I frowned to myself as I fetched a glass and filled it with cool water.

"Here you go," I said soothingly, setting it on his bedside table and smoothing his covers affectionately. He refused to look at me, however, as he glared moodily at the wall and I racked my brains to think what I might have done to offend him. Surely this was not about the forgotten glass of water?

"Who was that, anyway?" he asked after a few moments' awkward silence.

"By the door? That's Edward," I told him and his frown deepened.

"_That's_ Edward?" he asked, his voice incredulous, and I bristled unintentionally.

"Yes, that's him." I wondered if Jacob noticed the stony edge to my words.

"Oh." I waited, but he did not seem inclined to say more. Sighing, I turned to leave. "So that's the way it is now, is it?" he asked, calling me back.

"The way what is?" I questioned, confused by his remark.

"As soon as he waltzes in, you go running off? We're not good enough for you now that he's here?"

"What?"

"You know what I mean, Bella. Don't pretend you don't."

I stared at him for a moment, agape, torn between disbelief and vexation. "Jacob, you're being ridiculous! Why shouldn't I go and see Edward? He may not be able to stay for long. Everyone else will still be here when I get back."

"Isn't that convenient," he spat, his tone poisonous, and I flinched.

"Jacob?" I asked cautiously, hurt that he would think that way of me, and his head turned to meet my gaze, his dark eyes softening slightly.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to snap at you. It just feels like you don't need me anymore."

"That's absurd! Besides, isn't it you who's supposed to need me, not the other way round? I am the nurse, you know."

"Oh, yes. It's easy to forget that sometimes," Jacob teased half-heartedly and forced a grin.

"Jacob," I murmured, torn, but his dark eyes bored into mine fiercely as he pushed his smile wider.

"Go, Bella. Go and see your – your _Edward_. I'll be fine, you know. Besides, I wish you could have seen the way your whole face lit up when you saw him. Your eyes were glittering; you looked almost feverish. Don't worry, I understand."

His smile grew more strained the longer I hovered there, but he kept it up, turning his head from me. Eventually, however, the urge to be with Edward couldn't allow me to stay rooted to the spot any longer, and I threw Jacob a quick smile and a pat on the arm before turning and flying out of the door and onto the village green.

**If you're going in for the music, now would be the time to start it. Link's on my profile :)**

The sunlight was dazzling at first and I stopped just outside the hall, squinting in the brightness. The exhilaration and joy that I felt at seeing Edward again was rising inside me and I looked quickly around for him, eventually spotting his tall frame under a tree on the far side of the green.

For a moment I just stopped, captivated by the scene before me. He stood under the leafy canopy, drizzled with dappled sunlight, his back to me as he looked out over the village. From the way he was facing, he could not see the war torn streets, the blitzed shops and houses or the craters hollowed out in the countryside. Where we stood, the war was behind us.

His unruly mop of bronze hair glimmered in the bright light and each strand seemed a different, breathtaking hue that swirled together to form the most beautiful mix of colours I had ever seen. He stood with his feet planted firmly apart, hands in pockets as he looked out over the medieval village. His broad shoulders were open and the muscles rippled powerfully across his back under only a thin white shirt, causing me to catch my breath as I stood staring at him.

I wished that I could capture that one perfect moment, carry it with me forever so that I could always remember the sight of Edward standing in the brilliant sunlight, looking like a god or a fallen angel. The grass was a soft green and the sky a warm blue, but even these charms paled in comparison with his tantalising form and striking allure.

I called out to him and he turned, his chiselled features breaking into a smile as he saw me standing on the path outside the hall. He took a step towards me, holding out his arms welcomingly and I happily complied, running as fast as I dared to fling myself into his embrace once more. His arms closed tightly around me and I could have wept for happiness, feeling his heat and the warmth of the morning cocoon me.

He squeezed me tightly, robbing me of breath for a few seconds, as if I cared, then pulled his face away from my neck to gaze intensely into my eyes, his own sparkling with the indefinable glint that was _Edward_. He held my gaze for a moment, then brought his mouth to mine with an urgency that sent a shock of static through me. Our lips pressed together, tangling desperately as we tried to absorb every inch of the other.

His hands, wrapped tightly around my waist, moved, one hand sliding slowly up my back to twist in my hair and the other skimming over my skirt and blouse to come to rest on my ribs. I sighed into the kiss and he responded by pulling me closer, encouraging my own hands to roam a little. I took one from its post around his neck and wrapped it around his back instead, running my fingers over the strong muscles under his shoulder blades. Our kiss deepened, his tongue pressing against my lips, requesting entry, which I granted without second thought. He moaned quietly as I ran my tongue gently across his bottom lip, and the hand that was on my ribs twitched, as if it would move higher, but held its position.

Our passionate embrace intensified still further when I skimmed my other hand over the back of his neck and pushed it into his unruly hair, causing a shiver to spread down his spine. I smiled slightly into the kiss and his lips responded accordingly, capturing my bottom one and sucking on it gently. This time, it was my turn to moan slightly and his arms clasped me ever tighter to his body.

A moment later, however, he was pulling back, tearing his lips from mine and loosening his hold on me. He took a step backwards, keeping hold of only my hands, but I was too unsteady and incoherent to protest. His eyes seemed darker than I had ever seen them before, his pupils dilated to almost block out the irises. I blinked rapidly, my dazed expression probably mirroring his, and we only stared at each other for a few moments, both panting to catch our breath.

Eventually, I was collected enough to move again and I took a small step closer to him, squeezing his hand tightly in mine. He smiled crookedly and brought up his other hand to brush my cheek with his knuckles, lingering at my cheekbone. "God, I've missed you," he said, his voice rough and huskier than I had heard it before.

"I've missed you, too," I told him, and I was surprised to hear that my own voice was lower than its usual register. "I love you."

A smirk crossed his heartbreaking features as he replied, "I can see that. That was – unbelievable."

I nodded fervently, feeling how my lips were pink and swollen from our prolonged kiss. "It was. Why did you stop?"

"Somebody needed to, Bella," he told me with amusement in his tone. "I was getting too carried away and if it had gone on much longer – well, let's just say it was best we stopped when we did."

I merely nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. His hand moved to cup my cheek and I leaned happily into the warmth of his palm, savouring the feel of every callus and scar on his skin. He smiled lopsidedly and pulled me into his arms again, burying his face in my hair as I rested the side of my face against his chest.

I don't know how long we stayed like that for. It could have been hours or mere minutes, but time had ceased to mean anything when he pulled away. Taking my hand in his much larger one, he guided me towards a bench to one side of the green and we sat down on it, still keeping our backs to the direction of the frontline.

Turning his face to me, Edward simply said, "Tell me everything."

"Everything? I wouldn't know where to start."

"Start with that charming nurse who you introduced me to earlier. That was Sister Martin?"

"Yes." I rolled my eyes. "She's a bundle of joy, isn't she?"

He chuckled lightly, his dazzling smile lighting up his normally serious face. "She doesn't trust me."

I shrugged, not denying his statement. "She's very protective of us girls. I think she sees us as her charges who need a bit of tough love to develop spines."

He laughed again and I joined him, our voices ringing out together over the still green.

We talked for ages, explaining every minute detail of our lives to each other, at least on my side. While Edward was forthcoming with his answers and descriptions, I always felt like he was holding something back, perhaps out of some misplaced urge to protect me. I don't think he realised just how much I saw, just how much I learnt from the wounded soldiers that passed through that ward. Perhaps half left feet-first and this could not fail to make an impact on me. I had seen a man coughing blood after a gas attack; I helped stitch a six inch gash on a young soldier's stomach. Once, I had even been privy to the amputation of a leg where the wound had become affected with gangrene. That was not an experience I would wish to repeat.

These horrors had, however, made me stronger and changed me, making me the person I was today. I was still Bella, still the same woman I had always been, but I was older and more resilient, and surely Edward could not fail to see that I had matured. I was no longer the naïve girl he had left behind in Forks; now, more than ever, I was capable of being an equal partner with him in every way.

I asked how it was that he was here, and he explained that his regiment had been billeted in a village about twelve miles away. Apparently, he had ridden the distance on a bicycle that he had bribed the farmhand to lend him, and would cycle back that evening in time for the meal they were provided with. I asked how long he would be staying there, and he replied that he did not know for sure. Between four days and a week was his guess, and I nodded happily at this news. I was sure that we could find time between my shifts to be together for that period.

I suppressed a yawn as the conversation turned to home, not confessing to Edward that I had not slept in more than thirty hours. I had got off working a night shift and would have been sleeping right now, were it not for the miracle sitting next to me. I would not tell him, though; his company was infinitely preferable to any number of hours' sleep.

"I'm glad you're here, Bella," Edward whispered after a few moments' silence.

"Are you?" I asked, a wicked glint in my eye. "I thought you didn't want me to be a nurse!"

"You are terrible! Trust you to remember that now!"

"Well, were you wrong? Is my being a nurse a good thing after all?"

"No," he replied, turning to me with a serious expression on his face. "I would still rather you were safe in Forks."

"Edward, that's not who I am."

"I know. At least this way I can keep an eye on you myself." He smiled teasingly down at me and I rolled my eyes. "If you _had_ to be a nurse, you could have done worse than come to France."

"That is all the praise I get!" I exclaimed in mock indignation, and he laughed then pulled me into his chest, pressing his lips softly to my forehead.

"You want praise? You're beautiful." He slid his lips down the side of my face to caress my cheek with aching tenderness. "You're intelligent." His silky mouth traced the line of my jaw teasingly slowly. "You make me laugh." This time, my neck was peppered with small, open-mouthed kisses. "You're the most generous person I've ever known."

I sighed as his lips pressed gently to the corner of my mouth, painfully close to where my own hungry lips waited. Impatiently, I turned my head to catch his mouth with mine, our lips moving seamlessly together as our arms coiled around each other. "I love you," he whispered, as we broke apart to breathe, gazing steadily into my eyes.

The passage of the glowing sun to the centre of the sky and then slightly to the west was the only indication of time ticking by. I did not look at the sun as it gradually started to lower slightly in the cobalt heavens; the west pointed towards the frontline, towards the world that we would have to return to at the sinking of the sun. For the moment, we could cling to our fractured reality, clawing at the cracks that threatened to tear it apart, but the ephemeral bubble could only last so long. It was only a matter of time until the dream had to end, until I woke up.

I clutched Edward tighter to me, never taking my eyes off his heartbreakingly familiar face. He looked down at me with a strange look on his face, a sad smile playing around his mouth as he wrapped his long arms around me comfortingly. Sitting next to him on the bench, I rested my head on his chest and I felt his chin on the top of my head, each connecting ourselves to the other in the only way we knew how.

Locked together in this manner, we gazed out over the green, the warm hues of afternoon bathing the scene in soft reds and oranges. It was beautiful, but there was a certain inevitability to the picture; in a few hours, the sun would set, whether we wanted it to or not, and in the same way, our lives would continue as if this day had never happened.

I shivered, not out of cold but of something inside me, something trying to get out. Edward tightened his grip on me, cradling my body to his chest, and I huddled into his embrace. This day would end, but tomorrow a new one would dawn. I couldn't know whether it would be wet or fine, but I knew that it would symbolise the relentless marching on of time. I couldn't save this moment, couldn't stay here forever, and suddenly I had a morbid glimpse of our own fleeting transience. Soon, we would be gone, and perhaps another young couple would take our place, watching the sun creep slowly downwards with the same wondering eyes.

My head swam a little as I considered this, and for a moment I felt quite dizzy and unsteady. I shivered again, waiting for the unnerving feeling to pass. Gradually, it did and I rested against Edward's chest again, the warmth almost seeming overpowering. Regardless, I snuggled close, not willing to let him go for anything. Right there, in the mellow afternoon, I resolved to do whatever it took to be with Edward and vowed never to surrender, never to say it was too hard. In that moment, I gave him everything; everything I had and everything I was. I would protect this, protect _us_, for all we had and were.

* * *

***whispering so as not to spoil the moment***

**Well? Did you like it? It was for you, after all. Yep, that's right, YOU. Every single one of you. You're all special to me (sorry for the cheesy line, hehe).**

**Now, you know what to do for me, don't you? It's a give and take relationship. And just so you know, I do my best to reply to every review, even if it's just saying 'good chapter, update' - see, I really do appreciate them all. Lol, I bet you want to hit me over the head by now, right? Talk about hammering a point home.**

**Thank you all for reading - that is, I'm hoping that someone's actually reading this. Now I've made myself all paranoid. Go on, just let me know you're out there. Or am I all alone? Noooooo!**


	24. No Man's Land

**Wow, I am blown away by the response to the last chapter. I got 40 reviews which is almost twice the number I've ever got before! It appears you guys like a little Edward/Bella love - who'd have thought it?**

**Anyway, thank you to everyone who reviewed and I really, really appreciate your feedback :) And thanks to those who sympathised with my little 'glitch' rant last chapter - it's good to know I'm not the only crazy one out there :P**

**Today, for your delectation, I have Chapter 24 (time flies, doesn't it?). I hope you like it because it makes me chuckle...**

**Thank you again, Cullenista, for your amazing beta skills. Nothing gets by that woman, let me tell you ;)**

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No Man's Land

**EPOV**

Almost as soon as the dawn broke the next morning, I was pushing myself off my makeshift bed in the straw, rubbing sleep from my eyes and running a hand through my hair to get rid of stalks. I had stayed with Bella last night absolutely as late as I could get away with, and had only just made it back in time for the nine o'clock curfew. I had missed the daily meal the farmhouse was providing us with and I felt that now, as I jumped up and pulled on the jacket that I had discarded by my side.

I contemplated waking Emmett to let him know where I was going, but he slept so peacefully nestled in the straw, like a small child, that I was reluctant to disturb him. Wryly, I smiled as I wondered when I had gone so soft, deciding it must be Bella's influence on me. There was no doubt that she made me a better man.

Carefully, so as not to wake the others, I tiptoed out of the barn and round the corner of the outbuildings where I had stashed the loaned bicycle. I was sure that Emmett and Ben would figure out where I had gone, so I didn't worry about being missed.

The morning was crisp and bright as I pushed off from the wall, swinging my leg over the saddle to pump the pedals rapidly, picking up speed as I sliced through the cool air. The dew was still hanging in the dawn air, settling on my skin as I rode down the street that was just being lifted from its dusky cradle. The first rays of pink sunlight sweeping over the fields and rooftops foretold a warm day, but the chill of the night still lingered in the atmosphere, making the ride through the quiet streets more pleasurable than it would be later in the day.

The pastel fingers of dawn stroked the neat fields on either of side of me as I pushed the bicycle up a slope, my feet slamming down on the pedals to get it to go faster. In such a mood as I was, one in which I could not wait to get to Corbie, a leisurely ride was not what I had in mind.

I forced my legs to move faster, cresting the top of the hill and picking up speed as I wheeled down the other side. The wind rushed through my hair, whipping my flapping jacket from my sides like a banner trailing behind me. The downward gradient steepened and the wheels of the bicycle whirred as they spun swiftly, and I couldn't help but let out a laugh as I flew down the hill, almost as if I were a small child again, imagining that I were riding on a dragon's back.

The low branches of an overhanging tree swung in my path and I ducked just in time to avoid being thwacked on the head, letting out a giddy cry of exhilaration as this caused the bicycle to accelerate still further. By now, the pale sunrise had brightened, orange streaks sweeping across the pale blue sky. It seemed almost that the weather reflected my mood inside; pathetic fallacy turning my inner joy into a beautiful day. I laughed aloud at the thought, everything suddenly seeming delightful and amusing to me.

The ride to Corbie passed quickly this morning. By the time I was rolling into the streets lined with collapsed shops, the sun was high in the sky, but the day was still young and seemed to promise great things. The rows of bombed buildings on either side of my route didn't bother me as much as they should; this morning I seemed almost immune to the destruction and barely flinched when I made out the words _Ecole Primaire _on a half-demolished metal sign.

As I was freewheeling down a gentle slope through the town, an enticing aroma snaked up my nostrils, causing the bike to swerve as I peered around me for the source of the smell. My gaze fell on a building which still stood strong, despite the fact its windows had been blown out. Over the porch, I could vaguely make out the word _Boulanger_ and the brakes squealed in protest when I slammed the bicycle to a stop outside the small shop.

Resting it on the curb, I pushed on the door to the baker's shop and it gave way easily, the warm scent of baking bread rushing up to greet me. My mouth watered instinctively at the tantalising smell and my hand delved almost feverishly into my pocket, sifting around until I proudly produced a few coins. Jingling them in my hand in anticipation, I approached the counter where the shop girl was laying out trays of freshly backed rolls and loaves, and hesitated as I tried to recall my very basic French.

"Excusez moi," I tried hopefully and she looked up.

"Oui, Monsieur?"

"Je voudrais – est-ce que je peux avoir – je veux acheter –"

Amusement danced in her deep blue eyes as she gazed at me, humouring my feeble attempt at speaking the native language. "Un pain?" she asked slowly, pointing at the loaves as one would for a small child.

"Non," I replied, shaking my head and gesturing that I wanted a smaller piece. "Un – plus petit –"

"Comme ça?" she asked, gesturing to a fresh bun that was still steaming slightly and I nodded my head.

"Oui, c'est bon; merci."

"De rien," she said, expertly scooping the warm bun into a small paper bag and twisting the corners in a practiced manner.

I held out my hand containing the coins, knowing that it would be hopeless to try to ask the price, and opened it, palm upwards, for her to sort through. She leant over and picked out two small silver coins, dropping them into a box behind the counter and handing me the small bag.

"Merci, Monsieur," she smiled warmly, and I grinned in reply.

Walking out of the shop into the budding sunshine, I opened the paper bag and pulled out the fresh bread, the scent wafting appetisingly before me. Picking up my bicycle, I held it by the handlebars and walked beside it, one hand steering and the other allowing me to make short work of the bun.

It was not long before I reached the town hall that served as the hospital and I propped my bike on the outside wall, dusting the crumbs off my hands on my trousers. Running a hand absentmindedly through my dishevelled hair, no doubt making it stick up at even stranger angles, I opened the outer door and stepped into the hall, straightening my shirt self-consciously.

The entranceway was dim, and I blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the lack of light after the bright morning outside. I pulled open the inner door to the ward itself, then, striding inside and scanning the room quickly. On initial inspection, Bella was nowhere to be seen and so I resolved to stop standing in the doorway like a fool and ask somebody where she was and when she would be available.

Glancing around me, I spotted a young blonde woman unpacking a box full of supplies into a nearby store cupboard, so I approached her slightly hesitantly. "Excuse me?"

She looked up and smiled warmly when she saw me; perhaps even slightly too warmly. "Good morning. Can I help you with anything?"

"Um, yes, I'm looking for Bella Swan."

"Oh," she replied, her face falling almost imperceptibly, and I shifted uncomfortably.

"Do you know where she is?"

"Oh, yes, but you can't see her."

I was taken aback. "I can't? Why not?"

She paused for a moment before lowering her voice slightly and edging towards me so that I could hear her murmur, "I'm sorry but she's – indisposed. Sister Martin won't let anyone see her, except the doctor and a few of us. She's not well, you see?"

"Not well?" The alarm was evident in my voice now, and the girl looked up at me sympathetically.

"No, I'm afraid not."

"What's wrong with her?" I tried to stop the panic welling up in my throat.

"She took a fever late last night and her temperature is high. She's been shivering and sweating for hours and none of us know what's wrong. I suppose it's just a fever." She shrugged. "Perhaps she caught it from a patient."

My stomach turned over and I clamped my lips together, irrationally terrified. It was just a fever, wasn't it? Surely they would let me see her, if I explained the situation.

The girl next to me waited for a moment, watching the changing expressions on my face, then asked, "You're Edward, aren't you? Bella's told me so much about you. I'm Katherine, by the way."

I barely acknowledged her, save for a small nod, and she looked slightly put out, then understanding when I said, "I'm going to see her."

"I'm sorry, but you won't be allowed to do that."

"I'm sure the Sisters will understand, if I explain to them. Excuse me."

Without a backward glance, I strode past a slightly bemused looking Katherine and back out of the hall, veering sharply to the left towards the house where Bella had told me the nurses were lodged. Following her description, I approached the door of the first house nearest to the hall; a small, two-storey house that was not a cottage but could hardly be called a mansion. It was functional if not particularly attractive, and the empty windows seemed to leer down at me as I knocked firmly on the wood of the door.

I waited for a few moments but no answer came and, not having much patience to spare at that moment, I pushed on the door, surprised to find it gave easily. I nudged it open and stepped over the threshold, the dim hallway a sharp contrast to the dazzling natural vista outside. I stood quietly in the hallway for a moment, my eyes adjusting to the relative darkness as I tried to get my bearings. The door still stood open behind me, so I turned to close it, loathe to shut out the last vestiges of warm light.

"What do you think you're doing?" The sharp voice rang out from behind me as I was swinging the door closed, and I spun rapidly, searching for the source of it. At the top of the stairs, a figure glared down at me, hands on hips and eyes narrowed. I held my ground as she stalked down towards me, and it was as she came into the light from the still open door that I could make out her features; Sister Martin.

"Outside," she ordered me, a pointy finger jabbing into my shoulder, and I hastily obeyed, backing out onto the path leading to the front door. Something told me that Sister Martin was not someone to be trifled with, and I decided that my best bet would be to be open and frank with her, hopefully winning her over to my side.

When outside the house, she pulled the door closed behind us and turned to stare up at me, lips pursed as she surveyed my sheepish expression. "May I help you?" she asked pointedly, her tone frosty.

"Ah, yes, I'm here to see Bella Swan."

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Why? I hear she's ill; is it serious?" Panic started to leak into my tone and Sister Martin's cold expression did nothing to soothe my nerves.

"Please, calm yourself, Mr Masen," she barked. "Miss Swan will make a full recovery in time, I have no doubt. It is just a fever that ails her. Nothing unusual in our line of work."

My disquiet eased slightly, but I remained anxious and desperate to check on Bella for myself, unable to take Sister Martin's word for it. "I need to see her."

"You will do nothing of the sort."

"Please?" I begged. "I really need to see her. I won't disturb anybody, I swear it!"

"Mr Masen!" she rebuked as my voice rose in a crescendo at her unmoved expression. "I will most certainly not be allowing you into her bedroom. A nurse in my charge! The very idea!"

My face fell slightly but I did not give up hope, my eyes wide and earnest as I pleaded, "Please? Sister Martin, please? I have to see her!"

"Mr Masen," she began coolly, "who are you?"

My forehead creased in confusion, my mouth hanging slightly open as I tried to understand her question.

Not waiting for a reply, she went on, "Are you Miss Swan's brother?" Eyebrows raised and expression steely, she awaited my reply.

"No."

"Are you her husband?" Her eyes flickered pointedly to my left hand once again, which held no ring.

"No." My denial was quieter this time, a whisper in the morning that was rapidly clouding over.

"I don't suppose you are her father?"

A pucker of my lips and minute shake of the head was all the response that was required.

"Then I really don't see how you think you can be admitted into her bedroom, Mr Masen." Her voice was coolly triumphant.

A pause stretched between us, dejection on my side and quiet determination on hers. Finally, I spoke again. "I'm an old friend."

"An old friend?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows, disbelief evident behind the words. "Well, I'm afraid, Mr Masen, that is not good enough. You may return when Miss Swan is recovered and visit with her when she is off her shift, but I certainly shall never permit you to see her when she is indisposed. Good day."

With that, she turned on her heel and marched back into the house, closing the door firmly behind her. I stood for a moment, staring at the ground, shame swiftly followed by anger coursing through me. I had to see Bella! How dare she tell me I could not? How dare she?

"Shit!" Cursing, I kicked a hapless clump of grass and earth that had come loose at the side of the path, sending it flying into the air, specks of dirt spraying over the gravel. "God dammit!"

A dark shape passed the window on the second storey and I looked up hopefully, wondering if Bella might have heard that I was here and come to talk to me. However, the head that passed was unfamiliar, and the disappointment kicked me sharply in the stomach. At the very least, I needed her to know that I had been here; that I had tried to see her.

Thrusting my hand into my pocket, I rooted around in search of a scrap of paper and pen. I found a stub of pencil, but couldn't get my hands on anything to write on. Sighing, I brought my hand to my forehead for a moment, rubbing it calmingly while I tried to come up with a plan. I could hardly knock on the door again and ask to borrow a piece of paper.

I could go back to the hospital, though, I realised, and beg a sheet from one of the other nurses. Surely one of them would be a friend of Bella's, prepared to pass on a message to her?

I wheeled around and walked back to the town hall, pushing the doors out of my way and heading inside, not stopping this time to adjust to the dimness. There were a few young women dotted around the ward, leaning over patients or rapidly writing things on charts. Perhaps one of them would have a spare sheet of paper.

I approached the nearest woman hesitantly, clearing my throat to attract their attention. "Excuse me."

She turned quickly at the sound of my voice, as if I had startled her, and I smiled apologetically. "Sorry to disturb you. I was just wondering if you had a spare piece of paper?"

She smiled in a friendly manner, and I suddenly recognised her from my visit the day before. She was the waif-like dark haired girl who had warned Bella that Sister Martin was approaching. What had Bella said her name was? I drew a blank.

"You're Edward, aren't you?" How did everyone here know who I was? "I'm Marie, one of Bella's friends. I'm guessing you've heard that she's unwell?"

"Yes," I answered shortly then immediately felt guilty, but she did not seem upset by my rudeness. If anything, her expression was kind and sympathetic, and for some reason I felt that I could trust her. I quickly curbed that instinct.

"She will get well, you know, although I can't help but worry about her. When my shift ends, I'll go and sit with her a little. I wouldn't want her to be alone."

I felt myself warming to this girl the longer she spoke, and a genuine feeling of gratitude spread through me. Clearly, she cared about Bella and I was relieved that she had someone kind to look after her. Reaching out, I put my hand on the girl's arm, which was supporting the clipboard holding a patient's chart. "Thank you. For taking care of Bella, I mean. I'm very grateful."

"You're welcome." A sweet smile lit up her thin face. "Now, did you want a piece of paper? I have one right here." She rifled through the sheets on the clipboard and pulled out a blank leaf. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Marie."

She merely smiled in response.

Taking the piece of paper and the stub of pencil from my pocket, I went to sit on the bench outside where the sun was just starting to peek through the clouds. I sat thoughtfully for a moment, before scribbling a short note on the paper.

_Dearest Bella,_

_I am very sorry to hear that you are unwell. I wish that I could come and take care of you myself, but I have been vehemently denied entry by a most militant Sister Martin. As soon as you are well, however, I promise that I shall come and take you out for a day. Surely the Sisters cannot deny you that, if it is to recuperate? _

_I worry about you, even though everyone assures me you will get better soon. I told you that nursing was not a good idea! As if you would ever let me prevent you from helping people. You are too nice for your own good, you know. I'm sure that is not the first time I have said that._

_My regiment stays in Allonville for a few more days, as far as I am aware, so if you hurry and recover then we should have ample time for our outing! Take care, my Bella, and get well soon. I love you and think of you constantly._

_Your Edward_

Sighing at the inadequacy of my writing, I folded the page and wrote Bella's name on the outside in the lead scrawl. I stared at it for a minute or two, before levering myself off the bench and re-entering the hospital in search of Marie. I found her by the store cupboard and handed her the folded paper, thanking her profusely and extracting from her the promise that she would give it to Bella as soon as she could.

Smiling with a glimmer of hope, I turned to leave the ward, but something caught my eye before I could get far. Leaning back against his pillows and smirking infuriatingly was the same man I had seen talking to Bella yesterday. The same man I had seen making Bella laugh and putting his hand on her arm. My Bella.

My vision darkened and I began to move towards him, suddenly much less aware of the other people around me. I stopped before his bed and his arrogant leer widened as he grinned impertinently at me, sizing me up.

Then he opened his mouth to speak and his white teeth flashed against his russet skin, the self-satisfied smile still in place. "Edward, isn't it?" he asked with mock politeness. I inclined my head minutely. "I'm Jacob Black."

"Pleased to meet you," I answered stiffly.

Motioning his head towards where Marie stood, he said, "Going after all the girls, are you now? Just Bella isn't enough for you?"

I gritted my teeth together, trying to bite back the rage that welled up in me at the sound of his smug voice. He must have sensed my annoyance because he continued, a broad grin fixed stupidly to his face. "You know, if you're fed up with Bella, you should just pass her on to someone else. She deserves better than you. She deserves someone who actually cares about her."

My face must have been red at this point because he smirked in triumph, making me want to knock the smile right off his cocky face. My fist twitched at my side, but I held it back, controlling my anger enough to reply through my teeth, "How dare you talk about my Bella like that."

"_Your_ Bella?"

"Yes, _my_ Bella."

He shrugged, so full of himself that I itched to take him down a peg or two. "We'll see about that. You know, it must be so sad for you to be away fighting, knowing that your girl is working with a load of soldiers. I'll take care of her, though, so don't worry."

My face twisted up into a sneer, my rage turning to cold fury as I contemplated the best way to knock him unconscious without making a scene. "Bella doesn't need looking after, especially not by _you_."

"That must be such a comfort to you in the trenches," he jeered with a disparaging smile.

Goaded, I responded, "At least I am fighting, not lying in some cushy bed making advances on another man's fiancée!"

"Fiancée?" Jacob's face paled slightly and I couldn't help the triumphant smile that stretched across my face. "Bella didn't tell me she was engaged."

"Maybe you're not as close as you thought," I taunted and his jaw clenched.

"You're not engaged," he spat, calling me out on my lie.

"As good as," was my hissed response.

He paused for a moment, the cocky smirk back in place as he looked me once up and down. "Not good enough. Not if you feel you have to stake your claim. A little anxious, are we? Afraid she'll realise that her options are better without you in the picture?"

I growled through my teeth and he laughed; a forced, jeering laugh. "Apparently I've hit a nerve."

"I am not worried," I spat and he raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Could've fooled me."

Suddenly, the remaining shreds of my temper snapped. "Enough! I won't listen to this anymore. I'm warning you, though: if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from my Bella."

I turned and stalked away from the bed, my fingernails biting into my palms as I struggled to control my rage. I heard him call after me, "Don't count on it!" but continued as if I had not, studiously ignoring him.

I walked up to where Marie was re-stocking the supply cupboard, and politely asked her if I could have the note back. Opening it up, I pulled the pencil from my pocket once more and, leaning on the cupboard door, scribbled in large letters,

_P.S. STAY AWAY FROM JACOB BLACK._

"Thank you, Marie," I said, re-folding the note and handing it back to her.

"You're welcome, Edward," she replied, vaguely confused by my black expression, and I nodded briefly at her before stalking towards the door of the hall and the bright morning outside.

As I stepped out of the hospital ward, roughly grabbing the bicycle that was discarded by the entrance, I recalled with bleak irony my earlier thought about pathetic fallacy. Above, the sky was a dull carpet of grey, smothering the landscape with tumultuous clouds. As I swung my leg over the saddle and pushed off, in the distance, a clap of thunder rolled across the sombre pall.

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**Ah, I love the ending. So melodramatic and morose. And all other adjectives that begin with 'm'... **

***Macabre  
*Machiavellian  
*Magenta  
*Magical  
*Majestic  
*Maladroit  
*Malicious  
*Malignant**

**And, God, I'm only in the 'a's...**

**OK, wow, I have problems. I'm dangerous when let loose with a thesaurus, let me tell you. If you have any you would like to add then feel free to join the madness.**

***Mad**

**Anyway, moving swiftly on...**

**Please review and tell me you think I need to be committed, or what you think about the story, or anything, really :)**

**Thank you. Until next time!**


	25. Insensibility

**Hellooo my lovelies :) Thank you for all the reviews. They make me HAPPY!**

**This chapter was quite hard for me to write so tell me if you think it's a bit of a fail. I need to know these things!**

**I have a teensy confession to make, as well. I've been really dumb and changed the name of one of the characters without explanation. I realised in the course of this chapter that when I first started writing Marie, her name was Madeleine. Somehow, probably due to the fact that she did not appear for a couple of chapters, her name got changed to Marie, so my apologies for that. I went back and changed it in Chapter 20 so now it's all consistent, so I didn't want you guys to be confused. If you even noticed, that is ;)**

**Anyway, enough of my rambling and on... to another of my ramblings. Damn, you guys, you have questionable taste if you're still here :P**

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Insensibility

**BPOV**

My head pounded as I lay perfectly still on the stiff hospital-issue mattress, drifting restlessly in and out of consciousness. My brain thudded against the edge of my skull, feeling as if it were splitting it in half, and I tried to lose myself to the blackness that dulled the sharp pain, at least temporarily.

I was not sure how long I had been lying in this bed; it could have been weeks or only a few short hours. Time ceased to mean much as my temperature raged, soaring and falling intermittently so that I alternated between shivering and sweating profusely. My body felt limp, my limbs like lead, and I neither made any effort to move nor had any desire to. I fluctuated between thrashing in my twisted sheets and lying still as the dead, wondering if I would ever want to sit up again.

I was acutely aware of every noise around me; every clatter of footsteps or chatter of voices was noted and duly recorded in my mind. Academically, I recognised the sharp sounds for what they were, but my brain struggled to comprehend their meaning. I only vaguely understood that the two separate voices were holding a conversation, or that the flurry of movement around me meant that people were in the room. My mind seemed like a spiral, a spring coiling tighter and tighter in on itself until something snapped. I could only lie still and hope that it was not my head.

Gradually, my body calmed and the pounding in my head eased, and I slept. I knew not for how long. Lost in the confused kaleidoscope of my subconscious, I was dead to the world, chasing bright colours and men on bicycles through windy roads. The sun beat hotly on my head and I tried to find shade, but the heat followed me wherever I tried to shelter.

I began to float closer to consciousness, desperately seeking respite from the relentless sunbeams. One eye opened and immediately closed, screwing up in protection from the glare that seared my retina. After a moment, the other cautiously took its place and I peeked through my lashes at the room that had held my sickbed for the last few hours, days or weeks. My perception of time was hazy and unformed, so it surprised me that the sun was high in the sky, blazing through the bay window and onto my face.

I cringed, turning my head away from the luminous glass and nuzzling the cool pillow. A small moan escaped my lips at the movement, my head still feeling tender, if no longer feverish. I heard the soft click of shoes approaching my bed, and cautiously opened my eyes just as a cool hand pressed soothingly to my forehead, Marie's kind brown eyes gazing gently into mine.

"Welcome back." She spoke quietly, her fingers stroking the damp hair from my brow and surreptitiously taking my temperature with her practiced hand. "How do you feel?"

"Like a battalion's marched over my head," I replied and she smiled kindly, moving away from the bed to pour me a glass of water.

"If you're making jokes again then I think you'll live."

"We can only hope," I quipped, and she laughed quietly.

"Would you like to sit up now?"

I nodded and she helped me prop up my pillows so that I could gingerly ease myself upright. Surprisingly, I found that my head didn't spin at the movement, and took this as a positive sign.

Marie handed me the glass of water and I sipped at it eagerly, just realising that the dry ache in the back of my throat was thirst. The cool liquid was like balm to my parched mouth and flushed skin, and the glass soon emptied. Marie took it from me and put it on the dresser, sitting beside me on the covers, the empty beds lying in rows on either side of us.

She smiled in her gentle, warm manner and took my hand in her small one, her long fingers gripping mine. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"So am I," I assured her wholeheartedly and we shared a smile.

There was a short pause, in which Marie assessed me with her eyes, before she spoke again. "Edward came to see you yesterday."

"Edward?" I asked, disappointment and pleasure warring in my voice. How was it that I had never considered the implications of my falling ill at this time? Edward's leave was probably already half gone, and now I had gone and caught a fever. The fates really did hate me!

"Yes," she nodded. "He left this for you." Reaching into the saggy utility pocket of her coarse skirt, she pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me.

Curiously, I unfolded it and scanned the words on the page.

_Dearest Bella,_

_I am very sorry to hear that you are unwell. I wish that I could come and take care of you myself, but I have been vehemently denied entry by a most militant Sister Martin. As soon as you are well, however, I promise that I shall come and take you out for a day. Surely the Sisters cannot deny you that, if it is to recuperate? _

_I worry about you, even though everyone assures me you will get better soon. I told you that nursing was not a good idea! As if you would ever let me prevent you from helping people. You are too nice for your own good, you know. I'm sure that is not the first time I have said that._

_My regiment stays in Allonville for a few more days, as far as I am aware, so if you hurry and recover then we should have ample time for our outing! Take care, my Bella, and get well soon. I love you and think of you constantly._

_Your Edward_

_P.S. STAY AWAY FROM JACOB BLACK._

I frowned, surprised at the postscript, and looked up to see Marie watching me slightly warily.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, and I bit my lip before nodding.

"Yes, everything's fine," I reassured her, but she continued to survey me as if she could feel that something was off.

"Bella?"

"It's alright, honestly. He says he hopes I get well soon and that his regiment will be staying in Allonville a little longer. It's just that, at the end of the letter –"

I leaned over to show her the note, and she worried the blanket with her fingers as she read it.

"Why would Edward say that?" I wondered aloud, turning the words over in my head. "It's not as if he's ever really met Jacob. What could he possibly have against him?"

Marie hesitated, and I suddenly became suspicious, peering at her with narrowed eyes. "Marie?"

"Well, while you were ill," she began, "Edward came to the hospital looking for you and Sister Martin sent him away."

"She sent him away?" I repeated, disappointed, and she nodded. "Oh."

"Yes; I didn't know about it myself but Bryony saw the whole thing from the window upstairs. He put up a good fight." A small smile warmed her fragile features. "That must have been when he wrote your note," she told me as I listened attentively. "He came back into the ward and I talked to him a little, and – he talked to Jacob Black."

"Edward talked to Jacob?" I asked, nonplussed.

"Yes," she said slowly, but under my interrogative stare, yielded further. "Talked might not be quite the right word."

"What is the right word?"

"Perhaps – fought? I'm afraid they argued."

"They fought?" I asked, disbelieving, and Marie nodded. "Whatever for?"

"I don't know," she replied, shrugging. "All I can say is that they talked for a few minutes – neither looking very friendly, I might add – and then Edward left. He asked for the note back and wrote something on the bottom." Her eyes darted back to the page that was held loosely in my hand.

"How strange," I mused, replaying the scene Marie described in my head. "I wonder what it could have been about?"

"I could guess, Bella," Marie interjected cautiously, and I turned my gaze on her, instantly curious.

"Go ahead," I encouraged.

"Surely it is not inconceivable that – they could have been fighting over you?"

"Over me?" My jaw hung slack as I considered that possibility. Why would Edward and Jacob argue over me? The concept was entirely alien to me.

"Well, anyone can see Edward's in love with you," she rationalised, and a warm glow started to spread through me from my middle, tingling down my limbs as I thought of him. A small smile must have graced my face as Marie smiled back at me. "Jacob –"

"What about Jacob?" I asked, unable to make the connection between Edward loving me and their fighting.

"Bella, I think that he has feelings for you."

"Who?" I asked, bemused.

"Jacob."

"Jacob?" I scoffed, letting out a small snort of disdain. "Impossible. We're just good friends."

"I know that, but I'm not sure that Jacob sees you in quite the same way."

I thought about that for a moment, but could not wrap my head around the idea. "No, Marie, you must be mistaken. There's simply no way that Jacob could like _me_ in that way. Why would he?"

"Oh, Bella," she sighed, "why do you have such a low opinion of yourself?"

"I don't," I replied. "I just don't see what he would think is special about me."

"What do you think Edward sees in you?" she asked gently.

I thought for a minute, but a drew a blank. "I don't know," I admitted. "We've always been friends, so I suppose that counts for something."

Marie only smiled, squeezing my hand in hers in a sign of comradeship. "Just talk to Edward, alright? Perhaps Jacob, too. I'm sure you can sort this whole mess out."

"Yes, I will. Thank you, Marie. For bringing me the note and everything. I do appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Bella," she replied, smiling sweetly, and I felt affection for her rise up in my chest.

Getting up from her perch on the edge of the bed, she reached behind her to the nightstand and handed me a couple of envelopes. "Some letters arrived for you with yesterday's post," she informed me.

I took the letters, glancing at the handwriting on the letters and smiling when I recognised my father's and Alice's script.

When Marie had gone back to the ward, I slid a finger under the seal of the first envelope and pulled out the folded leaf. Alice's distinctive perfumed stationary brought a smile to my face, and my eye flew down the page, picking out each exclamation point, showing her enthusiasm.

_21__st__ May 1918_

_Dear Bella,_

_You will never believe the news! It has been all over the town this week and I can scarcely believe it myself. Jessica Stanley is to be married! You may think you have misunderstood my meaning but, fear not, it is quite true. Rumour has it that she is expecting Tyler Crowley's child and that her father has insisted on a wedding at the earliest opportunity! They are to be married within a month or two, as he soon comes home on leave. Just imagine, Bella! Here, we all thought that she entertained hopes of snagging Edward! Unfortunately for her, someone has clearly already done that._

_Ah, Bella, you will think me such a gossip, but the truth is that I cannot resist a scandal like this. In that respect, I am too like my mother! God forbid! Truly, though, I do feel for Jessica. How I should hate to have whispers and pointed stares following me wherever I went! I have tried to befriend her, for I think the poor girl needs a friend, but she wants little to do with me. Hopefully I can persuade her to come around, for I should like another girlfriend to chatter with, even if she can be a little irritating. I do not judge her, though neither do I envy her lot. I miss you, Bella! I am sure that you would know just how to proceed in this delicate situation. I am rather prone to tactlessness._

_When Jasper and I are married, any gossip we are the at the centre of shall be envious and the whole town will be jealous of our good fortune. We shall live in a mansion with servants and animals and a motorcar, and we shall have five children and be gloriously happy. I have it all planned out, you see? I pray everyday that he will come back to me, Bella, and every morning when there is not a telegram waiting for me on the breakfast table, I count as a blessing. I have kept every one of his letters and I reread them all sometimes. Do you know that he has never said he loves me? He does not need to; it is apparent in every word on the page. I do love him, though, with all my heart, and someday I shall tell him that. If only he would come home!_

_Please write to me and tell me everything about your life in Corbie. Are you keeping well? Has Edward yet been billeted? We do not hear from him so very often now. I tell my parents that it is because he is kept busy, but still they worry. If you see him, do remember us to him, won't you?_

_You are like a sister to me, Bella, and I miss you here in Forks. With hugs and kisses from,_

_Alice_

A sad half-smile played about my lips as I set aside her letter, closing my eyes and resting my head back against the propped-up pillow. I worried about Alice, without me to look after her; she felt everything too much, and while Mrs Masen was well meaning and loving, she was as prone to sensibilities as her daughter. Mr Masen would have a job containing their enthusiasm or sorrow by himself.

Rereading the last paragraph, I ached to be at home where I could see my father and Alice and talk to her face to face. It felt like years since I had been able to do that. Still, I was here for Edward, and for the soldiers who needed me, and there was no time to dwell on home.

I began to fidget where I sat in bed, contemplating drafting a reply to Alice. Restlessness started to overtake me, however, and I loathed the idea of staying in bed any longer. I had just swung my legs off the side of the bed, when sharp clacking footsteps mounted the stairs and marched into the bedroom.

"Ah, Nurse Swan, good to see you're feeling better," Sister Martin barked.

Walking over to my bed, she felt my forehead with practiced indifference, then nodded in satisfaction. "Excellent. Now, where do you think you're going?"

"Um, I was going to get up?"

"Out of bed? Certainly not! You need rest and recuperation, Nurse Swan, to make a full recovery. I've half a mind to keep you in bed for the rest of the week, if you don't rest and do as you're told. A few days' away from the ward wouldn't do you any harm. Can't have any of my nurses collapsing on me, now, can I?"

"No, Sister Martin."

"Quite so. Back to bed, now, Nurse Swan."

Reluctantly, I sunk back onto the lumpy mattress and arranged my pillows so it looked as if I would sleep. I tucked the letter from my father on the nightstand to read later, and hastily closed my eyes to placate Sister Martin. She clicked her tongue, watching me wordlessly, then turned on her heel and marched from the room and out of the cottage.

Peeking through my eyelids, I saw that the coast was clear, and pulled myself into a sitting position again. The room seemed unbearably dull now that I was alone, and my attention wandered too much even to read. Sighing, I resigned myself to hours of boredom, and was just starting to feel really disheartened when a soft voice called up the stairs, "Bella?"

Wondering what she wanted, I replied, "Yes, Katherine?"

"Look out of the window."

Curious, I heaved myself out of bed, a little unsteady on my feet after more than a day without stirring from my position, and walked over to the window. Gazing down, I saw Edward standing in the small front garden, gazing up at the window as if he were expecting me.

Grinning, I opened the window as wide as it would go, and leaned out to talk to him. "Edward! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, silly," he replied with a wide smile and I felt my limbs start to melt as his gaze bored into mine, even from the distance he was below me. "How are you?"

"Much better, now," I replied happily. "The fever's gone and I feel practically back to normal."

"I'm glad," he said sincerely. "You didn't give me half a fright!"

"Sorry," was my sheepish response, and he laughed good-naturedly. "I'm also sorry you came and they wouldn't let you in. I would have liked for you to be here."

"I know, Bella, but that Sister Martin is one determined lady." He seemed regretful, so I hastened to lead the subject away from anything that could trigger sadness.

"I'm glad you're here now."

"Me too."

For a moment, we just beamed at each other, then Edward opened his mouth to speak again, hesitating uncertainly.

"What is it, Edward?"

"Bella, I wanted to ask you – Ben requested a favour – when we were in Brest –"

"Edward?" I was bemused at his apparent inability to frame a coherent sentence; this, Edward, who usually dazzled me with his eloquence and wit.

He blushed, then continued in a rush. "Ben wants me to go with him to Brest, to visit Angela. Would you come with me?"

"Oh," I gasped, my eyes widening at the thought. "When would you go?"

"Tomorrow morning," he answered, his eyes open and vulnerable as they held mine. "Do you think you might be allowed to come?"

My face fell as I considered the prospect, knowing how strict the Sisters were. "Probably not," I said defeatedly, and his hopeful expression slipped.

"Try, please?" he urged me, earnestly capturing my gaze with his own unblinking one. "I have to go – I promised – but I don't want to leave you as we've only got a few days left before we go back to Amiens. Try, Bella. We'd only be gone one or two nights at the most, and I promise I'd take care of you."

"I know you would," I told him softly, loving every inch of his handsome face as it gazed so pleadingly up at me. "I will try."

"Thank you," he breathed. "I'm going to go into the village now to buy some food, but I'll be back soon. I could speak to Sister Martin for you, if you'd prefer?"

"No," I said decidedly, thinking that her distrust of him would scarcely have lessened since he tried to visit me in my bedroom the day before. "I'll ask Marie to do it, I think. If you see her, would you ask her, please?"

He nodded and smiled at me quickly, before striding away from the window and out of my sight. Sighing, hardly daring to hope, I settled myself back in bed and toyed with my fountain pen, trying to formulate words to answer Alice's letter. My mind wandered distractedly, so it was a long time before I even managed to put pen to paper. I had got as far as,

_Dear Alice,_

_Thank you for your letter,_

when hurried footsteps approached up the stairs and a flushed Marie burst into the room.

"Bella!" she gasped, and I stared at her in alarm.

"Marie, what's wrong? Do you need my help?"

I made to get out of bed but she pushed me back down firmly, kneeling on the foot of my bed as she caught her breath. I watched on in puzzlement, less anxious but still mildly concerned at her uncharacteristic behaviour.

When she had calmed enough that it seemed she could speak, I once again asked, "Marie, what is it?"

"Bella, you'll never believe it!"

"You're not the first one to tell me that today," I answered wryly.

Marie did not even stop to wonder at my remark before rushing on, "I ran into Edward outside the ward about twenty minutes ago and he told me that he wants to take you to Brest. I said that I would propose the idea to Sister Martin and so when I next saw her doing the rounds, I went up to her and –"

"Did you really ask her?" I interrupted, agape, and she nodded.

"Yes, I did, and I must have caught her in a good mood because she didn't shout at me for suggesting the idea!"

"Really?"

"It surprised me, too," she confessed, eyes wide as saucers.

"She didn't shout? Then what did she say?"

"Well – and here's the really incredible part – she said she'd think about it! She actually told me that she'd been thinking that you needed a change of scene, after your fever, and that sea air might do you good."

"No! You can't be serious!"

"I swear it's true."

"Well." I sat back against the pillows, temporarily stunned. Sister Martin had a reputation for being the most stubborn, unreasonable nurse in the hospital, in the district, and here she was, actually considering letting one of her young nurses go unescorted to a city three hundred miles away!

"Wait, Bella, there's more," Marie went on, and I shook my head to clear the stupor that had settled over me.

"More?" I asked weakly.

"After doing her customary swoop around the ward, looking for our mistakes so that she can 'help us learn', she came back to me and said that she was prepared to allow you to go –"

"I don't believe it!"

"Provided you had a chaperone."

Instantly, my face fell and the sudden high evaporated. "A chaperone? Who does she intend to send?"

"Well, you know she's go herself, if she could, but obviously she can't leave the hospital."

"So who will she send?"

"Well, actually, she told me that you could go, provided that one of us went with you."

"One of us? She would trust me to go to Brest accompanied only by another trainee?"

"Apparently so. Perhaps she's getting feverish." Marie rolled her eyes.

I let this sink in for a moment, my head reeling from the sudden turnaround in the ferocious Sister we all knew and loved. As the dust started to settle, however, one thing became clear to me, and I turned to Marie with renewed determination in my voice. "Marie, you will come, won't you? You will be the one?"

He eyes instantly lit up, but she quickly calmed her expression to ask, "Are you sure, Bella?"

"Of course I am. You're the only one I'd really like to take."

Her fingers picket at the holes in the blanket for a moment, before she looked up at me, her face shining. "I'd love to come," she whispered.

I nodded, satisfied. "Then, tomorrow, we go to Brest."

"To Brest," she echoed, and we smiled at each other.

* * *

**TO BREST!**

**Wooooo!**

**Review, please, and make me love you even more (hehe, emotional blackmail)...**


	26. To His Love

**Hey everyone. I'm sorry it's taken two weeks to get this update out - I've been absolutely rushed off my feet and have barely stopped to snatch a few hours' sleep. Sad times :( This chapter is one of my longest ever, though, so hopefully that will make up for it.**

**Some of you may also have noticed that I have posted two new one-shots called 'Backwards' and 'To Love An Angel', both of which are entries to bethaboo and THEEDWARDEMMETT's Make It Count Contest. There are some really great stories entered so you should really go along and check them out, and don't forget to vote on your favourites. Voting opened yesterday on both authors' profiles so what are you waiting for! **

**The link to bethaboo's profile is on my own profile, and you vote via the poll at the top of the page. If you like my stories then I would so appreciate a vote (you get three) so I don't feel like a total reject, but of course you have to vote for the best. I wouldn't want to pervert the course of justice now, would I?**

**Another reason why I have been so busy recently is that we've had some relatives come to stay from the US of A and they've been keeping me occupied. I hadn't met them before but they were really lovely and friendly, but some of the things they said astounded me. I'd never heard the phrase 'pop a squat' before and it seems crazy to me, but apparently it is said. Furthermore, they actually have a marching band at their high school! I mean, they play instruments while marching up and down! Why? Absolutely no idea. Seems pretty strange to me, but to each their own, right?**

**Anyway, enough of my sad autobiography and on with the story. If you remember, Edward is billeted in Allonville and he and Bella met up once when her shift ended. Then Bella had a fever so they couldn't see each other, but now she's better and has agreed to go with Edward, Ben and Marie to Brest to see Angela. You got all that?**

**THERE IS A SPECIAL DEDICATION FOR THIS CHAPTER TO ONE SUPERB VAMOSRAFA07 WHOSE HELP WAS INVALUABLE WITH THE FRENCH DIALOGUE ETCETERA. SO THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND THIS CHAPTER IS IN YOUR HONOUR :)**

**Thank you, again, to Cullenista for her ever reliable beta skills. She's the best beta I know! God, I make bad jokes...**

* * *

To His Love

**EPOV**

The regular thrumming of the train beneath me rippled up my torso, encasing me in the rumble of the wheels and the throbbing of the engine. The puffing, chugging locomotive sped through the French fields, manicured neatly in regular squares, shimmering with different coloured crops in the morning sunlight. It was a beautiful day, warm rays of sun peeking from behind light, fluffy clouds, and as I sat by the window, I felt that it could not be more perfect.

Turning to the seat next to mine, I picked up Bella's hand, resting on her lap, and squeezed it happily. She looked up at me, her soft face breaking into a smile, and I beamed back. I treasured the feel of her fingers enclosed within mine, knowing that I could hold her hand without fear of reprimand from either my parents or the Sisters in Corbie. The feeling was immensely liberating, almost intoxicating, and my smile widened as I wove her fingers through mine, revelling in the sensation.

The landscape flew by outside the window, but Bella's warm body pressed up against my side kept my attention from being dedicated to its observation. "Edward," she began, and I turned my head to look down at her face, her full lips puckered up in an adorable pout.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

She rolled her eyes and my lips twitched as I recalled her distaste for terms of endearment. It had always bemused me, and I ignored it for the most part, but her reaction seldom failed to make me smile.

After a moment, she continued, "Tell me more about Angela, please. I feel like I should know a little about her if we are to spend time with her."

"I'm not really the right person to ask," I replied with a shrug, nodding towards Ben on the bench seat opposite hers.

"Ben," she tried again, "will you tell me more about Angela, please?"

His face visibly lit up at the mention of her name and his fingers, which had already been clenching the sides of the seat in anticipation, turned white as he squeezed them ever tighter. "She's incredible," he said fervently, his eyes taking on an almost reverent expression. "You'll like her, Bella, I know you will."

"I'm sure I shall," Bella agreed, "but I would like to know some more about her. She lives in Brest?"

"Yes," he affirmed with a quick nod of the head. "She lives with her mother and her younger siblings in a small house in Brest. She told me that she has two sisters and a brother, all younger than her. She works as a serving girl in one of the local taverns to help support the family."

"She can't be much older than I am," Bella mused, and Ben shook his head.

"No, she's nineteen. Her birthday's in February."

Marie's small voice from the corner by the window spoke up, asking, "What about her father?"

Ben hesitated, then answered, "Nobody knows where he is. He just upped and left one day when Angela was only a small child. Though that doesn't mean they're a bad family or anything!" He surveyed us fiercely, daring us to challenge his valiant assertion.

"Of course it doesn't," Marie soothed. "I'm sure Angela is a lovely girl."

"She is," he told us, slightly mollified. "I don't see how anybody could help but like her. She's the sweetest, prettiest girl I've ever met."

I squeezed Bella's hand tightly as Ben spoke and leaned slightly closer to her on the seat. The chugging of the train meant that you had to speak up to be heard, so I used that excuse to whisper in her ear, brushing her cheek with my lips. "Do you feel alright, love?"

She nodded, nuzzling in closer and resting her head on my shoulder as she replied, "I'm fine Edward. Really, you don't need to worry about me."

"Yet you know I will."

She rolled her eyes, making me smile. "Yes, I know you will; you can't seem to help yourself."

Murmuring into her hair, I explained, "If you had any comprehension of how much I love you then you would not think I worry too much. You would think me positively blasé!"

She snorted in disbelief, closing her eyes as her body relaxed into mine. I longed to wrap my arms around her body and hold her closer to me, but I knew that I could not in a crowded train compartment. My heart jumped at the thought that later, however, we might finally get a little time alone.

Marie and Ben talked quietly as the train chugged through the countryside, my mind registering their voices but not the meaning of their words. I was tempted to close my eyes as well and sleep for a while, but I was loath to miss a second of having Bella so close. I wondered idly if it would be possible for me to avoid sleeping at all until we were back at our respective conscriptions.

The four-hour train journey seemed to pass quickly, the four of us talking and whiling away the time with easy camaraderie. Whenever possible, Ben talked about Angela, his face seeming to be permanently lit up like a street lamp, and I alternated between annoyance and satisfaction at his happiness. Anytime that I was tempted to tell him exactly how interested I was in Angela's favourite colour writing stationary, I bit back my snide retort, acknowledging that I was probably twice as persistent and irritating with details and anecdotes about Bella.

We pulled into the station in Brest at four o'clock in the afternoon, stretching our dormant limbs as we stood up and made our way onto the platform. A porter stood at the door of the train and he lifted down our cases, offering his hand to Marie then Bella. She thanked him, and he shot her a tooth-flashing smile and kissed her hand, speaking in a low voice to her in French, making her giggle and blush. I seethed at his audacity, feeling a sudden desire to tear him limb from limb, and took her firmly by the arm, leading her away from the smooth-talking porter. I felt his glare on my back and smirked as I pictured his face, holding her hand and planting a sweet kiss on her cheek. She beamed up at me.

The station was large compared to Amiens, where we had departed from, and Forks, which I was used to. We stood in the middle of the bustling platform, looking for some indication of which exit we should take to make our way to the tavern where Ben knew Angela worked.

"Maybe we should ask someone?" Marie suggested, glancing around her in a bewildered fashion.

"Excusez-moi, Madame," Bella spoke up, addressing a voluptuous woman stepping from the train just behind us.

The woman looked up, a kindly smile spreading across her ample face. "Oui, Mademoiselle? Est-ce que je peux vous aider?"

"Pouvez-vous nous indiquer le chemin du_ Renard et La Plume_, s'il vous plait?" Bella asked, naming the tavern that we had met Angela in during our first memorable visit to Brest.

"Oui, oui, je le connais bien! Le propriétaire est très gentil. S'il vous plait, donnez-lui mes amitiés! Nous sommes amis depuis, hein, quelques années maintenant."

"Ah, oui? Je serais ravie de faire sa connaissance."

"Oui, oui, bien sûr! Il faut que je vous présente! Peut-être devrais-je vous accompagner?" She waved her arms around excitedly, face lit up, and I leant backwards to stay safely out of range of her flapping hands.

"Bella, what's she saying?" I asked, leaning in to speak in a low voice, my basic French inadequate to keep up with this rapid exchange.

"She's going to take us to Angela's tavern," she told me, smiling at the woman, bedecked in a peacock-blue coat and large hat which had slid back a little on her head, revealing flyaway hair framing her face.

"Ah, pardon!" the large woman exclaimed, reaching in my direction with soft, fleshy hands. "Je ne me suis pas encore présentée! Je m'appelle Mme Fouilleul."

"Enchanté," I replied, grasping the proffered hand and tucking it under my arm, as there seemed little else to do with it.

"Quel gentleman!" she squealed, and began to walk down the street, clasping my arm firmly as she paraded me for all to see.

Bella and Mme Fouilleul began speaking again as we meandered through the busy streets, and I was impressed by how Bella's French had improved since I had been away from Forks. She had always been more proficient than me, but it had come on in leaps and bounds since my leaving and this puzzled me considering how little she enjoyed her studies. I made a mental note to ask her about that later.

Having introduced the four of us with dazzling swiftness, they progressed to chatter away rapidly, Bella stumbling but managing to hold up her side of the conversation with relative competence. At one point, my ears pricked up as I recognised the word for soldier, and I listened with difficulty as Mme Fouilleul described how soldiers had been encamped recently near her home.

"Ton chéri, est-il soldat?"

Bella smiled and blushed, nodding her head. "Oui, il lutte à Amiens."

"Euh, c'est dangereux, je vous dis. Je ne voudrais pas le faire moi-même!"

Bella nodded again, biting her lip, and the woman hastened to reassure her. "Non, non, ma chérie! C'est dangereux, oui, mais je suis sûre que ton petit ami s'en tirera très bien! Après la guerre, vous marierez-vous? A-t-il fait sa demande en marriage?"

She grabbed Bella's left hand, and I understood just enough to realise that she was looking for a ring.

"Non? Ah, vous rougissez!" It was true; Bella's face had flushed a deep red. She tried to splutter out a response, but Mme Fouilleul cut her off again. "En temps et en heure! J'espère que vous serez heureuse, ma chérie."

She patted Bella's hand, who was still looking embarrassed and incredibly awkward, and released her to point with a flourish at the tavern before us.

"Voilà!"

She led us inside and proceeded to vigorously embrace the bartender, kissing him twice on each cheek. The minute we entered the inn, Ben began scanning the room for Angela, trying to pick her face out from the crowd that had already begun to gather, even given that it was not yet five o'clock. Marie stayed latched to Mme Fouilleul's side, seeming equal parts awed and terrified by the way the conversation was progressing.

We milled around for a few moments, then I led Bella to a table and we sat, watching people negotiate the crowd with varying amounts of success. After we had sat in silence for a minute or two, I remembered that I had wanted to ask Bella about her French and leant in to speak into her ear, glad again to use the excuse of background noise.

She turned her head to face me and we looked at each other, and in that moment all thoughts flew out of my head and I wanted only to kiss her. She raised her eyebrows, however, reminding me that I had been about to say something, so I cleared the lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. "Your French has got very good recently," I told her, annoyed with the stilted compliment and my inability to form intelligent sentences when she was this close to me.

She shrugged, nonchalantly brushing off the praise, but I persisted, honestly curious. "I didn't think you liked French."

"I didn't."

She seemed to think that was the end of the matter, but I was not so easily deterred. "What changed your mind?"

She paused, a faint pink colour seeping into her cheeks, and I waited for her response. "Bella?" I prompted after a moment.

She didn't look at me as she mumbled her reply. "France got a lot more interesting as soon as you were in it."

I could think of nothing to say in response, so I merely kissed her cheek instead, my lips lingering on her downy skin. When I pulled back, her eyes met mine and they were bright and shining, and as I met her gaze, I was sure that mine were the same.

We looked up after a while, and I saw that Ben had moved from the middle of the tavern to the bar, perching on a stool as he searched around him, seeming not to know what he should do next. Behind him, I saw a door swing open and a woman backed into the bar, carrying a tray balanced on one hand. When she turned, her hair fanning out due to the current created by the door opening, I could make out Angela's face, lips slightly rouged and pouting as she tried to manoeuvre the stuffy room.

Ben was glancing in our direction at the time, so I caught his eye and pointed behind him, raising my eyebrows as I did so. He turned, confused, and seemed to catch his breath as his eyes set on Angela's slight figure. At that moment, she spun towards him as well, and when she saw him, her pursed lips spread into a wide smile. She walked hesitantly towards where he sat, setting the tray on the bar and stopping in front of him, separated by the bar top.

I could not hear their exchange, but from the looks on their faces, they were both very happy to see each other. There seemed to be a slight awkwardness between them, as there would be if most if your relationship had been conducted via letters, but their faces were lit up as if each had a fire burning within them. With inane curiosity I speculated whether that was how I looked when I saw Bella.

Ben looked as if he would not be wanting to move anytime soon, and Marie still seemed engaged by our memorable guide, so I decided that we should try to secure a couple of rooms for the night. I left Bella sitting at the table and made my way over to the bar to speak to the bartender, tearing him away from Mme Fouilleul who seemed to be getting merrier by the moment.

We bargained for a few minutes, him insisting that he had no rooms to spare, until I offered a larger sum, at which his space miraculously freed up. I managed to secure two double rooms, after some negotiation, and turned back towards Bella feeling quite pleased with myself, even if my pocket was considerably lighter. It did not matter to me; money could not help me in the trenches and it was hard to think past them at this point.

I started to walk back towards our table but I couldn't see Bella behind a large crowd that had converged in the middle of the tavern. It was already becoming rowdier, as afternoon faded to evening, and I could see that the ale was beginning to flow faster now.

I pushed my way through the crowd, vaguely noticing that Marie had joined Ben and Angela at the bar, in search of our table. When I emerged from the bunch of bodies, however, I noticed Bella still sitting where had left her, two men leering down at her, both clearly drunk.

Immediately, I sped up until I was in hearing distance of the table, furious that they should make her feel uncomfortable in any way. She was shrinking slightly in her chair, looking a little intimidated and awkward, and I wanted nothing more than to scoop her up into my arms and take her home.

The taller of the two men leaned down until he was almost face to face with Bella and sneered, "Come on, darling, don't be like that."

She muttered something in reply which my ears could not quite catch, although her lips seemed to be forming the words, "I'm not your darling."

The shorter, stockier man lounged on the other side of her, resting his elbows on the back of her chair and moving his face close to hers; she shrank away. Fury boiled up inside me and I broke into a run, barging through the people that stood between me and the table.

As I did so, I saw Bella leap to her feet, possibly in response to something the man had murmured in her ear, her eyes flashing dangerously and anger written plainly across her face. "Do not talk to me like that!"

The stocky man sized her up, sidling closer, backing her up against the tall man behind. "I'll talk to you however I like, darling."

When she replied, her voice was harsh and steely, cold fury bubbling up beneath her calm exterior. "I already told you that I'm _not_ your darling. Go away and leave me alone."

"Come on, sweetheart! We could show you a good time! Don't be so unfriendly!" The tall man behind her reached out to brush the hair from her shoulder, his fingers grazing her neck, and she visibly flinched.

I was nearly upon them at this point, so I could clearly hear her next words, uttered calmly but enunciated with cast-iron determination. "I want you to get away from me. Now."

She turned to push her way between them, but the stockier one grabbed her left arm, preventing her from leaving. Enraged, she spun back around and her palm hit his cheek with a sharp crack and I could see, even from this distance, a red mark where her hand had made contact.

"You bitch!" he shouted, grabbing her other arm and shaking her roughly, backed up by the tall man behind who did not touch her but blocked any possible exit.

I sprinted the last few feet to the table, practically vaulting over a table that obstructed the path, and grabbed the shorter man's shoulders, flinging him aside with violent fury. "How dare you!" I bellowed as I turned on the taller man who merely watched, bemused, as my fist swung towards his face. He roared as it made contact with his eye and pressed his palm to it, but I had already turned to the other man who was about to spring on me. He swung at my face and missed, but I was off balance so failed to make contact when I threw a punch of my own.

By this point, the tavern had erupted around us, and there was a contrast between shouts and cries of alarm, and jeers egging us on. Through the rage-tinted fog in my mind, I heard Bella's voice shrieking, "Edward!" and swung around to check that the tall man had not recovered enough to hurt her.

She was standing a few feet away, the man on the other side of the table, but her face implored me to go to her. "Edward, please," she said, holding out her hand to me.

I could not, however, obey her summons, needing to teach these idiots a lesson they would not soon forget. The anger still burned inside me and I turned on them again, now standing between the two of them and Bella. "You bastards!" I roared, my face twisting up as I tried to resist flinging myself into the fray again, and they glared back at me from a few yards away.

"Who's this?" one of them called, leaning round me to sneer at Bella, but I moved to block his view.

"Don't speak to her."

"Who the hell are you, man?" the stocky one asked aggressively, cracking his knuckles. "Stay out of this."

"Don't tell me what to do!" I shouted, angered beyond reason or sense. "You do what I say! Stay away from her! If I ever see you within so much as a mile of her, you'll have hell to pay! Understand?"

"Check out Mr Big-shot!" they jeered, but I did not stay to listen to their taunts. Instead, I used every fibre of my self-control to spin and grab Bella's hand, storming out of the tavern with her hot on my heels. The shouts and catcalls followed us out, but I tried to ignore them, blocking out the rage still shuddering through me with the feel of her hand in mine.

The cold air outside brought me back to my senses and I gasped it in thirstily, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to regain control of my temper. I led Bella round the corner so that we were in a side alleyway, leaning against the brick wall of the tavern as I breathed evenly in and out. Eventually, I was calm enough to speak, and I turned to Bella, an apology written all over my face. "Bella, I'm so sorry. I should never have left you alone. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Edward," she soothed, pulling my other hand from my face so that she could hold both in hers.

"I was so stupid!" I berated myself, not really able to look at her. "I was such an idiot to leave you by yourself, even for a minute!"

"I'm not a child, Edward," she snapped. "I can look after myself."

"Do you expect me to believe that? After what happened back there?" _What almost happened_, I corrected myself.

"Edward!" she demanded, her voice firm. "Edward, look at me."

Reluctantly, I met her gaze and saw the strength of will and fiery determination present there. "What happened back there was not your fault. You mustn't blame yourself! There are some people like that who just cause trouble. It was bad luck."

"Bad luck! God, Bella, you can't imagine how I felt watching them push you around! I was so angry, so furious –" I broke off again, breathing deeply to control my temper.

"I know, Edward," she murmured, stroking one finger down my cheek, and I held very still as I revelled in the sensation. "I could see it in your face. You know, that terrified me more than those idiots ever could. I didn't know what you were going to do and I thought you might hurt yourself or do something stupid."

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know."

We were silent for a few minutes then, each reliving certain points of the events that had just transpired, and enjoying the closeness of our bodies pressed warmly together in the cool air.

Behind me, the door to the tavern swung open again and I tensed, expecting the louts to have come out for round two. I heard, instead, a familiar voice and turned just as Ben was exclaiming in relief, "There you both are! We were looking for you! Are you alright?"

He was towing Angela by the hand, Marie trailing behind, and he looked between the two of us worriedly. I did not meet his eye, not wanting him to see the anger that still burned under the surface.

"We're fine, thank you, Ben," Bella spoke up, smiling sweetly at him, as I continued to stand immobile.

"That was some fight in there!" he went on, wide-eyed. "Geez, Edward, you throw quite a punch!"

I said nothing, staring at a spot several inches wide of his head.

"Edward?"

I didn't move.

"Are you sure he's alright?" Ben asked Bella anxiously.

"Yes, Ben," Bella replied, threading her arms through mine and pressing herself closer to my body. "He'll be fine. He's just a little upset."

That caught my attention, and I snapped my head down to look at her, nostrils flaring. "Upset?"

"What was the fight about, anyway?" Ben asked curiously, and Bella opened her mouth to answer, but I cut her off.

"It was nothing, Ben," I spat. "Just some drunks acting like –" I broke off, sneaking a quick glance at Bella who looked entirely unfazed. "Well, like scum," I finished lamely.

Ben glanced from one of us to the other, then back at Angela and Marie who stood slightly behind him. The three of them shared a look that clearly showed they recognised there was something more going on, but that they thought it best not to press it.

"Right," Ben said slightly awkwardly, shifting his weight. Then a sense of purpose seemed to fill him again and he stood up straight, asking eagerly, "Do you want to get out of here? Angela's asked us to dinner back at her house, if that's alright with you?" He turned the statement into a question, his eyes pleading with us to accept, and Bella did so happily for the two of us.

Together, the group of us strolled through the streets, conversation flowing easily between us. Ben refused to leave Angela's side and Bella and Marie talked quietly together, so I was left mostly to my thoughts. That suited me, however; I was still mulling over the incident in the tavern. Wondering what would have happened if I had taken longer with the bartender. Berating myself for being so stupid and careless.

**BPOV**

Edward was quiet as we walked to Angela's home, slightly outside the centre of Brest, and I watched him frowning distantly out of the corner of my eye. He didn't seem to desire any company, so I fell into step with Marie, the two of us walking comfortable together as darkness began to fall over the town.

"Bella," she began after a period of quiet between us, "what really happened in the tavern?"

I looked at her in surprise and she blushed and stared at the ground, hastily adding, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I mean, I just thought I'd ask –"

"It's alright, Marie," I assured her, taking her arm so we were strolling companionably. "I don't mind telling you."

"Edward seems really angry," she whispered, stealing a look at his clenched jaw and furrowed brow, and I sighed.

"Yes. Although he is slightly prone to over-reaction." We shared a small smile.

"I saw you, in the tavern, with those two men – before the fight." She stopped and looked at me hopefully, leaving her statement open-ended and almost questioning.

"Yes, they made themselves known to me, in a subtle and gentlemanly way," I told her wryly.

Her lips twitched in a mixture of amusement and sympathy, and I went on, "They couldn't take 'no' for an answer, then one of them tried to grab me and Edward went mad. He punched one of them."

"I saw that," she said, nodding. Then her eyes narrowed shrewdly as she continued, "I also saw you slap one man, the short one," almost as if she expected me to correct her.

I did not deny it, and her eyes widened as she surveyed me. "You're much braver than me," she whispered, awe ringing in her voice.

"Don't be ridiculous, Marie," I scoffed, brushing off her comment. "You would do the same thing if you were in that situation."

"Maybe," she sighed, almost wistfully, and I looked sharply at her.

"I don't doubt it. Never wish to be anybody but yourself, Marie. If anyone should be a model for others, anyway, it's you. I've never known a more unselfish person."

Marie went pink and hung her head, falling silent again for some minutes. I did not wish to break the peace so we walked along quietly, arms still linked. I only hoped that my words had got through to her.

Angela, still firmly attached to the end of Ben's arm, directed us to a small road a short walk from the town centre. The houses stood in a rickety row, seeming as if they were leaning on each other for support, a jumble of different characters and states of disrepair forming one long higgledy-piggledy street.

Angela's house, like all the others, was tall and thin, seeming to be three or four storeys high while only one room wide. She pointed it out to us, announcing completely without embarrassment, "This is my home. It's not much but we all work for a living."

"It's beautiful," Ben murmured reverently, and Angela positively beamed at him, leading him in through the wonky front door.

We all traipsed after them, Edward holding the door for Marie and I in his typical fashion. He still seemed preoccupied, but less perturbed than he had been half an hour ago.

Angela called out in rapid French and a shout came from deeper in the house; she led us down a narrow hallway lined with stacks of laundry and papers to a warmly lit kitchen where a plump older woman, whom I assumed to be Angela's mother, was standing over a stove. She welcomed us immediately, opening her arms in an all-embracing fashion, and ushered us in to stand by the burner.

She smiled a wide, dimpled smile, then turned and hollered up the stairs, bustling back to the stove to return to her pots. Angela invited us to sit, and we took chairs around the kitchen table, my eyes straying to the selection of garlic hanging over the stove and the bright copper assortment of pots and pans suspended on hooks on the walls.

The clatter and thump of footsteps on the stairs was followed quickly by the kitchen door swinging open and two young girls bursting through, laughing and slightly pink in the cheeks. We all stood up and Angela stepped forward to pull her sisters into the group, gesturing to each as she introduced them.

The first must have been about Alice's age, the second a year younger, with blonde and light brown hair respectively. We learnt their names to be Elise and Cécile and, amid their giggles, the fact that the youngest, their brother, would be home later.

The group thus swollen, we sat back around the table, Angela's two younger sisters sitting with their chairs pulled close together, whispering with furtive laughs and mirthful glances. For a while, I noticed their stares directed at Edward who shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. I thought I heard the words 'brooding' and 'smouldering' bandied around in colloquial French, and I narrowed my eyes as I watched them.

Apparently Angela caught the same phrase as I had as she shot a sharp rebuke at Elise and Cécile, after which they sulked for a few minutes before beginning giggling and chattering again. I smiled gratefully at her, and she shrugged her shoulders in response, rolling her eyes. That gesture alone seemed to tell me that they were flirtatious and silly, but not really dangerous. I was liking Angela more and more every minute.

About half an hour later, Angela's mother served a steaming pot of creamy stew, ladling generous portions into chipped porcelain bowls and passing them round the table. We all tucked in with abandon, burning our tongues as we foolhardily hastened to swallow the rich mouthfuls; we had not eaten since early this morning as no-one had thought to bring food for the train.

There was a brief lull in conversation as people ate, but it soon built up again as bowls were emptied, the last morsels scooped up with torn pieces of crusty bread. I professed that I had not eaten such a good meal in who knew how many months, and Ben, Edward and Marie quickly agreed. There was just something about home cooked food that not even the most skilled hospital chef could ever replicate, and I had been missing it since I had left Forks.

Angela leapt up to help her mother clear the dishes, and then the whole party sat on the tattered wooden chairs, talking and laughing in a strange mixture of French and broken English. I tried to keep up with the French asides spoken between Angela's mother and sisters, not trying to eavesdrop but genuinely curious, but I often found they were beyond my limited grasp of the language.

Twice, Angela's mother praised my French, saying stiltedly, "You speak the French very good. You learn it from a book?"

The evening passed in a blur of warm comfort and friendly company, but it was soon getting late and I knew Angela's mother had to get up early the next morning. After a rapid and, on Angela's side, pleading exchange with her mother, Angela extended an invitation to Ben to stay the night, explaining she could make him up a bed on the sofa. "I have so much to show you in the morning and we'll need an early start." Ben agreed instantly.

The three of us took our leave of the family, therefore, as the clock began to strike eleven and made our way back out into the cool evening air, the darkness swallowing us whole as we stepped from the light into the shadowy street.

Edward reached out and grasped my hand firmly in his, and I gripped back, our fingers staying intertwined the whole walk back to the tavern. Marie floated along on my other side, and although twice I tried to pull her out of her distraction, she barely seemed to be present with us. I decided, therefore, to leave her to her thoughts, sure that she was just tired and that a good night's sleep would do her the world of good.

The night was slightly chill and I tugged at the lapels of my coat, at which Edward immediately slipped off his jacket and hung it around my shoulders. Pulling it tightly around me so that I was cocooned inside, he gently kissed my forehead and then tenderly took my hand again. "Can't have you catching cold, can I? I don't want you to be ill again."

The town was quiet as we walked, seldom seeing another person pacing the dark streets. On any other night, I would have felt alone, but tonight I could not with two people I care for so dearly at my side. How can you feel alone when you're surrounded by people you love?

* * *

**Eeeeeeee! It's so exciting! Just me? Oh well.**

**Actually, I have something else that I think is pretty worthy of celebration. I have practically got 500 reviews (currently 497) which I think is pretty amazing. So a huge thank you to everyone who has ever left me a review! THANK YOU!**

**To say a better thank you, cos let's face it, that one was pretty lame, I'm going to offer a teaser to anyone who leaves me a review for this chapter. And let me tell you, it's worth having :) Due to my incredible organisational skills, I have actually started work on the next chapter and so I have this little gem to offer you. If anyone doesn't want it, just tell me in the review and I won't force it on you ;)**

**Anyway, I'll try to be a lot quicker about the next update, but it won't be up tomorrow, if that's what you're wondering. Life does get in the way, malheureusement, but I'll try to avoid another big delay. I promise, though, I would never intentionally abandon this story, so if I haven't updated for three weeks or so, just PM me to check I'm alive. If any of you listen to the Temptation podcast, they were talking about that very thing last episode which is funny cos it's something I've thought about a bit. What if I did die and there was no-one to finish the story???**

**Thank you for reading my story and the strange ramblings that seem to accompany some chapters. My appointment with the psychiatrist's scheduled any day now. A bientôt and don't forget to vote in the contest!**

**RosieWilde**


	27. Anthem For Doomed Youth

***Cheesy showbiz voice***

**Ladies and gentlemen, this morning I present to you lovely folks Chapter 27!**

***Clapping and cheering* Wooooo! etc.**

**Ahem, anyway, now I've indulged my more dramatic tendencies I have a few things I need to say...**

**1. Voting for round two of the _Make It Count Contest_ has now begun and is open until the 4th April. I have a story entered into this round as well, called _To Love An Angel_, and I would SO appreciate it if you guys would check it out and maybe even vote for me? The link is on my profile. Please? I would say I'd love you forever, but I already do ;)**

**2. I have updated the photo album for this story (link on profile) with pictures of nurses and nursing during WWI, as well as an image of what Bella could be wearing in this chapter. People like visual aids, right?**

**3. I have also put a list (with links, of course) of the poems used in this story as chapter names as they're almost all the titles of war poems. Some of them are absolutely beautiful and harrowing and I've put stars by my favourites. If you have a moment and want to read something absolutely amazing, I highly recommend them.**

**4. I just wanted to remind everyone, as this was a couple of chapters ago, about the letter Alice sent Bella in Chapter 25. Just because it comes up:**

****

_31st May 1918_

_Dear Bella,_

_ You will never believe the news! It has been all over the town this week and I can scarcely believe it myself. Jessica Stanley is to be married! You may think you have misunderstood my meaning but, fear not, it is quite true. Rumour has it that she is expecting Tyler Crowley's child and that her father has insisted on a wedding at the earliest opportunity! They are to be married within a month or two, as he soon comes home on leave. Just imagine, Bella! Here, we all thought that she entertained hopes of snagging Edward! Unfortunately for her, someone has clearly already done that._

_Ah, Bella, you will think me such a gossip, but the truth is that I cannot resist a scandal like this. In that respect, I am too like my mother! God forbid! Truly, though, I do feel for Jessica. How I should hate to have whispers and pointed stares following me wherever I went! I have tried to befriend her, for I think the poor girl needs a friend, but she wants little to do with me. Hopefully I can persuade her to come around, for I should like another girlfriend to chatter with, even if she can be a little irritating. I do not judge her, though neither do I envy her lot. I miss you, Bella! I am sure that you would know just how to proceed in this delicate situation. I am rather prone to tactlessness._

_..._

_Please write to me and tell me everything about your life in Corbie. Are you keeping well? Has Edward yet been billeted? We do not hear from him so very often now. I tell my parents that it is because he is kept busy, but still they worry. If you see him, do remember us to him, won't you?_

_You are like a sister to me, Bella, and I miss you here in Forks. With hugs and kisses from,_

_Alice_

6. Last but not least, I would like to make a request. Quite a lot happens in this chapter and there are a lot of shifts in the tone, so if you feel inclined to review, please remember what happened in the beginning as well as at the end! I mean, it's a decent length so it's easy to forget the start by the last paragraph. But I have faith in you guys!

7. Oh, oh, one more. Thank you to Cullenista for her amazing beta skills!

So I thus conclude the longest AN in the history of this story, and possibly the world. Enjoy!

* * *

Anthem For Doomed Youth

**BPOV**

The warmth of the tavern enveloped us as we pushed open the door, and the light welcomed us, pushing out the darkness that lingered in the doorway. We stepped into the busy room, rowdier and more packed than earlier this evening, groups and piles of bodies bumping together as they orbited the bar, drinks in hand.

For all that I thought I had matured since I had come to France, this was not something I had seen before and the unfamiliar scene unbalanced me slightly, warning me that perhaps all was not exactly as I had thought. I sneaked a glance in Edward's direction but he seemed unfazed, pulling me by the hand further into the crowded room. I shied back slightly but kept pace with him, hoping he would not realise my innocence.

I wasn't surprised when Marie decided to go straight up to bed and let her leave, saying that I'd be up soon. She barely nodded to acknowledge I'd spoken.

I was slightly concerned that she was so distant, but reassured myself that sleep was all the remedy that would be needed. I was sure that when I came up to bed in a while, she would be fast asleep, a healthy glow creeping back into her cheeks.

Edward leaned into my side, asking if I wanted a drink, and I agreed tremulously. He led us over to the bar and we sat on adjacent stools, watching as the toothless bartender poured out two measures of strong-smelling ale.

I slipped off Edward's jacket from around my shoulders, then my own as Edward paid for the drinks and slid one over to me, taking a large swig of his own. I raised the dusty glass to my lips gingerly, trying not to focus on the caustic smell that seemed to burn my nostrils. I took a hesitant sip, trying not to cough as the strong taste swilled around my mouth, and gulped it down, looking up to see Edward watching me with an amused expression on his face.

"Do you like it?"

I nodded unconvincingly, and he let out a low chuckle. "You've always been a terrible liar, Bella."

"No, no, I do! Well, sort of. I think it's the kind of thing you need to get used to."

"Well, I have not intention of letting you do that," he teased, leaning so his face was close to mine, his eyes sparkling. "You're far better than any of this, Bella. When we get home, I'm going to make you feel like a queen."

My eyes unfocused slightly as his face moved closer, his lips tantalisingly close to mine, but I managed to retain enough control to shake my head. "No. A nurse, I can do, but a queen wouldn't suit me at all. I'd have to sit still all day and make royal decrees –"

I broke off as his nose brushed gently against mine. "Queens don't trip," I finished half-heartedly, the majority of my attention now focused on his eyes and mouth, my gaze darting between the two.

He chuckled again lightly, his breath mingling with mine in the small space between us, and then suddenly our lips met, brushing together and teasing a response out of each other. I was practically oblivious to the crowd of people around us, or the bartender's coarse grin as he watched us out of the corner of his eye. The only thing that mattered was the feel of Edward's lips on mine, and the way his warm hand rested comfortingly on my back.

There was a shout at the other end of the bar and my ears pricked up, Edward and I breaking apart as a voice called sultrily, "Ed-ward!"

I craned around him to search for the source of the voice, but Edward groaned loudly, pressing two fingers to his temple before swivelling on his stool to greet the strawberry-blonde woman swanning towards us.

"Tanya!" he replied, plastering a tight smile to his face as I looked on in bewilderment.

She moved closer, wafting towards us a strong smell of perfume and cheap ale mixed together. "Ed-ward, 'ow delightful to see you again! I wasn't knowing you would be 'ere."

"We're just here for a few days," Edward explained, standing up from his stool as the woman, Tanya, reached us.

"We?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "_Mais, oui, bien sûr__!_" she exclaimed, pretending to notice me for the first time and jumping in faux-realisation. "Zis must be your beautiful lady, no?"

"Tanya, this is Bella," Edward said, reaching back to catch my hand and pull me to stand next to him. "Bella, I met Tanya last time I was in Brest."

"_Enchantée_," Tanya simpered, holding my hand limply for a second before dropping it.

I narrowed my eyes as I watched her, replying, "Charmed, I'm sure." Edward's eyes snapped to my face at the flat tone of my voice, but said nothing.

"Well, Ed-ward," Tanya went on, sidling closer to him where he stood at my side, "she is simply delightful," adding under her breath, "_décharnée, peut-être, et quelconque mais, euh__ –_"

I bristled at her comments, recognising the words for scrawny and plain muttered dismissively by the audacious woman who was now swatting my Edward's chest playfully, while he forced a smile.

Trying to get her attention away from himself for a moment, Edward announced, "Bella's a nurse, did you know, Tanya? She's based in Corbie."

"Ah, _oui_, Ed-ward's told me so much about you," she said, smiling smugly as she addressed me, her taloned nails adjusting his collar while she did so.

Anger began to rise in me, despite my best efforts to be friendly, so my next comment came out rather colder than was strictly necessary. "That's so funny. Edward's said nothing about you."

She looked outraged for a moment, then quickly arranged her features back into a saccharine smile, giggling girlishly as she turned back to Edward. "She is so charming, your Bella! I just want to pick 'er up and put 'er in my pocket. 'As she always been zis adorable?"

"Bella is wonderful," Edward replied cautiously, stealing a glance at me out of the corner of my eye.

"But, yes, of course." Tanya shrugged her shoulders, perfectly blasé. "I'm sure she will be quite pretty when she grows up. Zough, what will you do in ze meantime, Ed-ward?"

I tensed, still holding Edward's hand, and he squeezed it tightly, both calming me and warning me not to rise to the bait.

"Did I not mention Bella was a nurse, Tanya? I hardly think they let children into the Red Cross."

She shrugged, dismissing this information with a wave of her manicured hand, which then landed on Edward's shoulder and slid up towards his neck. "Well, if you are ever looking for a real woman –"

She trailed off suggestively, smoothing a few flyaway hairs at the base of his neck, and he shifted uncomfortably.

I decided that enough was enough and that it was time I stepped in before she made me do something drastic. "I hardly think that will be necessary, Tanya," I told her, my eyebrows raised so they almost met my hairline. "Edward is very – selective, you know. He has high standards. I wouldn't waste your time."

A look of shock flitted across her face, swiftly followed by a challenging expression, lip curled, one eyebrow cocked in disgust. "You zink you are better zan me?"

"I've never thrown myself at a man in a bar who's clearly already taken," I pointed out, stressing the last two words with exaggerated enunciation.

She let out one short laugh, flicking her hair back contemptuously. "Taken? You'd better hold onto 'im tightly. A man like Ed-ward needs a real woman, not a little girl."

"Oh, I know that," I came back, cocking my head to one side. "It's lucky he has me, then, isn't it?"

She snarled, her lip curling up again, and smirked. "You are an amusing child, but I don't want to play your little games. _Je m'ennuie_. Go 'ome to your mummy and daddy."

"Trust me, Tanya, I would love nothing more. I'm not leaving, though, until I can take Edward with me. You see, I love him, and he loves me."

Her eyes narrowed further but she turned her back to me deliberately, addressing only Edward as she said, "You are sure, Ed-ward?"

"Oh, yes, Tanya."

"Zat is a shame. I am always sorry to see something so good go to waste." She eyed Edward up and down, trailing her gaze up his strong stomach muscles, and then flicked her eyes disdainfully over me. "Well, when you change your mind, you know where to find me, _non_?"

"Don't hold your breath," I muttered and she did not respond, although a muscle in her cheek twitched as if she had heard me.

"Au revoir, Ed-ward," she said in her low, throaty voice, and then added without looking at me, "Bella."

"Goodbye, Tanya," I replied with false sweetness, and she stalked off without looking back, leaving a lingering smell of cheap perfume and cigarettes, interspersed with a noticeable dose of local beer.

Edward and I watched her go for a moment, before turning to each other, Edward's expression unreadable while mine was wary for his reaction. He spoke first, his voice low and rough as he looked straight at me. "That was amazing. You were amazing."

"Oh, good, you're not angry," I breathed, relieved, and he shook his head in surprise.

"Why would I be angry? You made her go away! I can't do that." His eyes were wide and I thought I could read awe in them, although that, of course, was ridiculous.

I merely shrugged, moving closer to him until we were only inches apart. He sucked in a shuddery breath, and I held his gaze while I asked, "Can we go upstairs, now? I don't feel like sitting down here anymore."

"Yes," he breathed, taking my hand after a delayed reaction and, grabbing our jackets and bags, we walked together towards the staircase that led to the rented rooms.

Edward stepped back and I mounted the stairs first, aware of Edward close behind me on the dimly lit staircase. At the top, it branched off into a hallway, narrow and rickety and lined with faded, peeling wallpaper.

Edward pulled me to a stop in front of the two doors at the end of the corridor, gesturing to the furthest one and holding out a key for me to take. "Marie's in that one," he said, his eyes speculative as he watched me. I nodded and turned the key over in my hand, making no move to go into the room.

He pulled a further two keys out of his pocket, both marked with the same number, and rested them flat on his palm. "I suppose Ben doesn't need his key."

"No," I agreed.

We stood in the hallway, not meeting each other's eye. Neither of us said anything for a long second that seemed to last an hour, then I suggested, "We don't have to go to bed yet. I'm not tired; are you?"

"No, I'm not tired," he said quickly.

"Well, can I come in, then?"

He nodded mutely and slid the key into the lock, jiggling it a little to unstick the catch. The door creaked open and I followed him into the room, flicking the switch by the door that turned on the lamps protruding from the walls.

We looked around the dingy room, each taking in the double bed in the centre, covered by a moth-eaten bedspread, and the small dresser with the handle missing from one of the drawers. I draped my jacket over the dresser and dropped my bag to the floor as the lamps were warming up, their dim light filtering throughout the room. Edward seemed fixed in position in the middle of the floor, so I went and sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring the way it sagged beneath my weight.

"The barman only had double rooms spare," Edward explained, slightly awkwardly, and I nodded in understanding.

"Marie and I will be perfectly comfortable, I'm sure. You're lucky you don't have to share with anyone," I teased, smiling at his unease.

"Yes, I'm lucky."

He stared at a fixed spot on the wall to the side of him, not looking at me, and I waited for a moment before sighing impatiently, "Come and sit down, Edward." I patted the spot beside me in invitation and, dropping his bag and jacket as well, he walked over and took the proffered space. The bed sank still further and I found myself sliding into the dip slightly; laughing, I pulled back and sat cross-legged on the bed.

There was a brief silence, before Edward said, "I'm really glad you came to Brest with me, Bella."

"So am I," I smiled, trying to catch his eye. He still would not look at me. "Edward, is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, of course," he answered, his voice slightly higher than usual, and I put my hands on each side of his face and turned it so that I could see his expression. He looked a little nervous, though for what reason I could not fathom.

"Are you sure?'

He nodded, so I decided to let it go, for now. "I got a letter from Alice a couple of days ago," I told him, steering the subject away from him in the hope he would loosen up. I pulled the folded piece of paper out of my bag and he held out his hand for it, a question in his eyes.

"Go ahead," I said, handing it to him.

He unfolded the letter and started reading it, occasionally making the odd comment or rolling his eyes at something Alice had said. I watched him read in silence, a small smile occasionally creeping onto my face at his reaction to the words on the page.

When he was finished, he neatly refolded the letter, making sure the creases were smooth and even, and handed it carefully back to me.

"Thank you for letting me read it," he said, smiling.

"Of course," I replied simply. "After all, she's your sister."

"She's your friend," he countered, sliding over the bed so that his side was pressed against mine, the pair of us sinking into the drooping mattress. "You two are closer than I realised."

I shrugged, resting my head on his shoulder, a sigh rippling through me. "I suppose so. She's like a sister to me."

"Alice could never wish for a better sister," he murmured, turning to kiss my forehead.

I laughed. "I'm sure there are many better women out there."

Suddenly, his voice was serious, and he lifted my chin to look at me as he said, "No, Bella, there aren't."

His vibrant green eyes seemed darker this evening, lit only by the lamps on the far wall, but they bored into mine with a gravity that surpassed his years. "There's no-one better," he repeated, never breaking our gaze.

Then, suddenly, his mouth was on mine, soft and insistent and heartbreakingly sweet all at the same time. I gasped in surprise but within seconds my arms wound around his neck, pulling him down to me. His lips moved gently against my own, brushing back and forth as I pushed closer to him, wanting almost to fuse into one body.

My eyes fluttered closed as one of his palms reached up to cup my cheek, the other resting on my back, pressing me into his body. His thumb stroked the path of my cheekbone, leaving a trail of tingling sensitivity wherever he touched, until I felt my face must be glowing with millions of tiny lights which ignited wherever his skin met mine.

The hand caressing my face slid down my throat, slipping around to the back of my neck, under where the knot of my hair coiled around the crown of my head. His fingers traced patterns on the soft skin there before he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and deepened our kiss.

The tingling feeling in my skin intensified, rippling through me as I clutched Edward tightly to me, never wanting to let him go. Throwing caution to the wind, I gave myself over to the sensation, melting into his arms as his lips shaped mine, his hands holding me as if I were precious and delicate.

His mouth became more purposeful, more forceful as it moved ever more urgently with mine, teasing and causing me to sigh onto his lips, never breaking the contact between our bodies. Deftly, never separating our lips, he swung up onto his knees, pulling me up with him so we were both kneeling on the sagging bed, our arms wrapped securely around each other, kissing deeply.

Slowly, deliberately, his hands slid up from my back, where they were holding me tightly, to my neck, angling my face so that his lips could brush from my mouth to my jaw, grazing my skin with calculated softness as they headed towards my shoulder. I sighed again, running my hands through his hair as he pressed gentle kisses to my throat, his nose skimming along the smooth skin there as his lips caressed my neck.

The sensation of his lips on my skin was incomparable, indescribable, and my eyes unfocused as I stared at the peeling wallpaper behind the old headboard. I was lost to the surroundings, thinking only of Edward's hands and lips on me.

Before long, he reached the starched collar of my lacy blouse and stopped, his fingers frozen on the base of my neck. Slowly, he raised his head and met my gaze, silently asking permission as his hands lingered on the top button; without registering what I was agreeing to, I nodded mutely.

His fingers fumbled with the buttons, but eventually undid the top three and slid the material away from my neck, exposing more of the skin of my shoulder. I shivered as, gently, he pressed his lips to my collarbone and then to the hollow just above it, nestling his face into the soft underside of my jaw. He made slow progress back up my neck, placing soft, open-mouthed kisses along my throat and under my jaw, until he finally made it back up to the corner of my mouth.

He lingered there, his lips not quite meeting mine but teasing me with their proximity and, impatiently, I pressed my mouth to his, swallowing his small moan of surprise and pleasure as my fingers tugged gently on the hair at the nape of his neck.

Our mouths moved faster this time, more urgently, pressing together and falling apart in a peaking dance of passion where we whirled around the precipice, getting closer and closer but just refraining from throwing ourselves off. His tongue pressed insistently on my bottom lip and I parted my lips slightly, granting entry, his hot breath mingling with mine as our mouths tangled together.

Our tongues touched and I felt as if a spark had zapped my skin, both pleasurable and almost painful in its intensity at the same time. Our lips moulded themselves to each other, first his encasing mine, then the other way around.

I took his bottom lip into my mouth and sucked gently on it, a move which elicited a subdued moan from him, the vibrations tingling from his mouth to mine and on throughout my whole body. I shivered and pulled him closer, one hand sliding from his neck down his back, feeling the powerful muscles of his shoulders and the way the skin was stretched over them.

Under my fingers, his muscles flexed and I shuddered at the strength they belied, running my hands across his broad shoulders and around to the top of his chest. In response, his long fingers trailed up my spine and across the back of my neck, running along the line of my jaw and around my cheekbones before finally making it to my hair. He fiddled with the pins holding it up, teasing them free and clear of the thick brown locks which then fell heavily onto my shoulders.

The tip of his tongue traced the outline of my lips just as his hands slipped into my hair, massaging my scalp and running the strands through his fingers, smoothing them and making me whimper quietly. I felt his lips smile against mine in response.

Holding the back of my head, he edged closer to me, his mouth pressing determinedly against mine, tangling our tongues and lips in a frenzy of passionate kissing. Gasping but not willing to break apart, we clung to each other ever more tightly, his hands straying from my neck and back down to my waist. His fingers stroked my lower back through my blouse and rounded to sit on my hips, using this grip to pull me closer to his body.

Infused with a fire that seemed to be spreading from my torso along my limbs, I bunched up the bottom of his shirt in my hands and started tugging on it unco-ordinatedly, managing to free the back of it from the constraints of his belt. Pressing my lips ever more fiercely to his, I slid my hands under Edward's shirt, running my palms longingly over the smooth skin of his back.

With a low moan, Edward leaned onto me, pushing me backwards onto the bed with his weight and hovering over me, pressing hard enough for me to feel his body against mine, but not so hard that he would crush me. His mouth moved hungrily against mine, robbing me of breath and rationality as our tongues danced passionately together, fighting for dominance.

One of his hands remained twisted in my hair while the other moved down my body, skimming along my side until it reached my waist. His fingers formed a complex pattern of trails from my hip to my stomach, only settling for a moment on the soft curve of my waist before moving on again.

Every kiss, every touch robbed me of breath and set me alight until I felt like I was burning from the inside out, my torso then limbs spontaneously combusting in a glorious pyre that would light up the countryside for miles around. I couldn't pause, couldn't think, couldn't reason. I didn't know what I expected to happen next, nor indeed what I wanted to happen; all I knew was that I couldn't and wouldn't stop.

I felt the weight of Edward's hand resting on my bent knee, my foot propped on the bed to balance me. Then, slowly, as his finger swept the hair back off my face, dragging down my cheek to my jaw, his other hand began to creep up my leg, pushing aside the unwieldy fabric of my skirt that was bunched around my knee. I shivered as I felt the tips of his fingers begin to graze my thigh, sliding up underneath my skirt, just as his mouth captured my bottom lip, his tongue running along it enticingly, my resulting moan passing back and forth between us as it hummed from my throat.

For a moment, our kissing intensified, then Edward's hands stilled on my thigh and cheek, halting their progression up and down my side. "Jessica!" he gasped suddenly, tearing his lips from mine.

It took a minute for my foggy brain to process this, but when it did, shock rippled through me, quickly followed by hurt. "What? No! I'm Bella!"

"No, no, we have to remember Jessica!" he explained, desperation burning in his voice, husky and raw from our exertions.

"What, right now?"

He exhaled sharply, hands pressing down on the bed on either side of me as he pushed his body away from mine. I mourned the loss of contact and sat up as well, panting and gasping as my mind and body still reeled from the way he had been touching me.

"Bella, you don't understand," he tried to explain, his rational tone ruined only by his breathlessness and the way hunger still simmered in his eyes. "Jessica is expecting Tyler's child, and he's thousands of miles away! We have to stop."

I took a minute to process this, but when I did, I hunched forward to hug my knees, realisation and understanding not hiding my disappointment. "Oh."

We sat for a moment, not speaking as we each tried to digest the way things had taken such a sudden change in direction. My breathing gradually slowed and I looked over at Edward who was sitting on the edge of the bed, not looking at me, his back moving in time with his heavy breaths.

I wanted to be close to him, to regain the feeling of being cradled in his arms, so I shifted onto my knees and edged towards him, gently placing my hands on his shoulders and resting my cheek on his back.

Instantly, his muscles tensed and he leapt to his feet, away from me, pacing agitatedly to the far side of the room. I watched in hurt and disbelief, rejection gnawing at me from the pit of my stomach as Edward strode the length of the room, not meeting my eye.

"Just don't touch me right now," he forced out from between clenched teeth and I did not reply, sitting frozen in the same position, fighting the tears that threatened to fall from my brimming eyes.

Edward seemed almost angry as his footsteps bit into the quiet of the room, and although my eyes could not help but follow his path, it hurt to look at the set of his jaw and the way his fists were bunched at his sides. I found myself unconsciously matching my breaths to the rhythm of his feet falling on the wooden floor and when he sped up, my heart seemed to race as well as if we were somehow connected.

Eventually, his pacing slowed and he came to a stop at the far side of the room, bracing his hands on the wall and resting his head between them. I just watched, no longer able to restrain the tears that were tracing tracks down my cheeks as the muscles rippled tightly across his back, his figure seeming vulnerable and hurt despite its stature and obvious strength.

"Edward," I whispered, my voice cracking as I held back sobs, and he slowly turned to look at me, keeping his back to the wall, his hands pressed to the paper behind him.

His face was as anguished as I thought mine must look, and I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and comfort him. His pain was unbearable, especially when I knew I was the cause.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice quiet and rough with emotion, and I took that as my cue to approach him. Standing carefully from the bed, I walked slowly across the room until I was standing right in front of him, gazing up into his troubled eyes. He did not move, his back still pressed to the wall like a cornered animal, and so I was the one to close the distance and wrap my arms around him.

"I love you," I murmured into his chest and then, after another moment, "I'm sorry."

He stiffened and I feared I had made him angry again, but he did not push me away and I made no move to break the contact between us. "Why are you sorry, Bella?" he asked, his voice tortured.

"I pushed you too far. I made you unhappy. I'm sorry."

"Bella," he whispered, lifting my chin so that my eyes met his, drowning in pain and confusion, "I'm not unhappy."

I rolled my eyes despite myself, replying, "Edward, for someone who's full of the joy of life, you're doing a lot of pacing and brooding."

I thought for a moment that he was going to smile, the corners of his lips twitching minutely, but then his expression became serious again and his dark green eyes bored into mine. "I'm sorry I made you cry."

I sighed, burying my head in his chest and holding myself as tightly to him as possible. "It's alright, Edward. You don't need to explain yourself to me. If you don't want me that way, that's fine, I suppose. Just, please, don't be angry."

"What did you say?" he asked sharply and I winced at the harsh tone to his voice.

"I said that I understand if you don't want me. I'm sorry I pushed you."

When he spoke again, I could plainly hear that his teeth were clenched, the tightness seeping into his tone. "You think I don't want you?"

I shrugged, nestling into his chest, wishing that he would wrap his arms around me, knowing that only then would I feel safe.

"Bella, you have to believe me." His voice was low and grainy, as if the words were dragged over hot coals, and I felt the vibrations from within his chest as I rested my head against his shirt. "I definitely want you."

"I don't understand," I replied, shaking my head in confusion, still not looking at him. "You didn't want me to touch you."

He reached down and captured my chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting it up so that I was forced to meet his eyes. They were dark and sincere, seeming miles deep, and I longed to know what was at the bottom of the well of glittering jade. "I couldn't –" he began, seeming to stumble over the words a little, "I couldn't let you – let you touch me – knowing that I couldn't _be_ with you – that way, I mean."

I frowned, my chin still supported by his rough fingers, struggling to make sense of what he was saying. "So – you do want me?"

"Yes, Bella." His voice was rough and deep, exuding sincerity and earnest.

"Oh."

This time, the smile fighting at the corner of his lips did creep across his face, lighting it as if from within. "Haven't I told you that you're beautiful?"

"Not in the last few hours," I joked, rolling my eyes, an answering smile adorning my own features.

"Well, I'd better remedy that immediately," he whispered, his arms finally encircling me and holding me closer to his body. "You are the most stunningly exquisite woman I have ever set eyes upon."

"I think you need to get your sight checked," I laughed, stroking a strand of hair out of his eyes, but he shook his head.

"I mean every word."

"Definitely delirious," I murmured, pretending to check his temperature with the palm of my hand, but even I could tell I was glowing with the misdirected but loving praise.

"Are you going to take care of me, Nurse?" he teased, a wicked glint in his eye, and before I could reply, he had swept me up into his arms and was carrying me over to the bed. Laying me gently down on the cover, he clambered onto the bed beside me and scooped me into his embrace, the sagging bed rolling us closer.

We looked at each other for a moment, content just to lie close together, and then his hand reached out to brush back the hair from my shoulder. His finger caught on the chain I still wore around my neck, guarding it jealously throughout my training in Corbie, and his fingers traced down it until they reached the cross nestled deep inside the neck of my blouse.

Picking up the small silver cross between his fingers, he gazed wonderingly at it, his marvelling eyes lifting to meet mine. "You still wear this?"

"Always."

He ducked his head and reverently kissed the glinting pendant, then raised his lips to do the same to mine. His mouth was soft and gentle, all urgency gone from our kiss, but I still felt my heart beat a little faster while he was so close. When he pulled back, his warm arms held me even tighter to his body and, resting his forehead against mine, he whispered, "I love you, Bella."

"As I do you."

Having said all that it was necessary to say, we lay still in each other's arms, feeling as if we had stolen a moment from some other people's lives, as if, even for only a few precious hours, we were allowed to be other than Edward The Soldier and Bella The Nurse. We were both there, in that moment, together, and that was all we needed. Tomorrow, or the next day, we would need to return to life and war and, ultimately, death, but tonight we could just stay here and be together.

It was times like these when I felt it was fated, that we were meant to be and that nothing could tear us apart. It was times like these when I could almost ignore the fact that time marches insistently by, could almost forget that we were in danger of being separated with every minute we spent at the frontline. That night, I closed my eyes and pretended that the dark cloud floating above our heads was not for us, was not preparing to erupt at any moment.

_We_ would be alright. We just had to be.

* * *

**Now, because I don't feel I talked _enough_ at the beginning of this chapter, I have another mini essay I would like to deliver. Ahem...**

**OK, I'll spare you guys, but I would love to hear your thoughts (in essay form or otherwise) about this chapter. Also, if anyone can teach me how to raise one eyebrow (à la Tanya in this chapter), please get in touch because I SO WANT TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT! I mean, I practise all the time and I still can't do it! What more must I do??**

**And don't forget to vote in the contest!**

**A bientôt mes chéries! *air kisses***


	28. The Redeemer

**'Ello 'ello! What 'ave we got 'ere ven?**

**I do believe it's another chapter! Number 28, to be precise.**

**Today I'm celebrating Cockney because it's bloody awesome! (wondering what brought this on? I just realised that rabbiting on - which I use all the time - is from the slang rabbit and pork - talk!) So sit down, put your plates up and make yourself a cup of rosie. Use your loaf, shut your north and south and glue your minces to the screen. Enjoy!**

***Um, just so you know, I don't talk like that in real life but I know people who do and I can fake it. As I'm sure any good Londoner can :)**

**Ooh, and thanks to Cullenista for being a great beta!**

* * *

The Redeemer

**EPOV**

The first thing I became aware of was that I was warm. The soft, comforting heat seemed to be embracing me, wrapping itself around me so that I was basking in the hazy glow.

The second thing to register in my mind was that I was not sleeping on scratchy straw, nor the tough, lumpy mattress of my bunk in the dugout. I was comfortable and cushioned, stretched out luxuriously on my back with the soft warmth wrapped over and around me.

I breathed deeply, enjoying the rare experience, savouring the way the bed moulded to my body instead of the other way around. Something light and feather-like tickled my chin and I reached up a hand to brush at the soft thing, my hand meeting what felt life a coil of hair draping from just beneath my chin across my chest.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked into the face of an angel, wide brown eyes looking earnestly up at me. Bella smiled warmly and after a dazed moment, I smiled back.

"Good morning," she said in her soft, lilting voice. "Did you sleep well?"

I cleared my dry throat hastily so I could answer her, my voice coming out croaky nonetheless. "I slept very well, thank you."

"Good," she replied, nuzzling her head into my neck and wrapping her arms more securely around my chest. "I did, too."

I took in a shuddering breath, feeling the warmth of her body enveloping me, and rested my cheek against the top of her head. "What time is it?"

She shrugged casually, reaching over me to grab at my watch that was resting on the nightstand. Glancing quickly at it, she replaced it and burrowed back into my arms, replying, "Not too late. Only about seven thirty."

I let out a short laugh, allowing my arms to encircle her as I buried my face in her hair. "I can't remember the last time I stayed in bed until seven thirty."

"Me neither." I could feel her smile against my neck.

I began to gently run my fingers through the tangled mane that was fanned over my creased white shirt, which I noticed was untucked with the top three buttons undone. Trying to be gentle, I teased out a knot from her thick, dark hair and pulled it between my fingers, enjoying the way the glossy strands slipped over my skin.

Bella sighed and hugged her small body closer to mine, practically lying on top of me as she draped one leg over mine. "I don't want to ever move from this bed," she murmured and I bent to kiss the top of her head, the tips of my fingers trailing from her hair in a pattern down her spine.

"Mmm," she sighed and I felt a contented smile tugging at my lips, loving the way Bella's body was pressed tightly to mine, our limbs closing the remaining distance as best they could. Her quiet breathing against my neck sent shivers through me and I held her fast, marvelling at the way we seemed to fit together, like two halves of a whole.

"Edward," she began, the vibrations from her voice trembling across my skin.

"Yes?" I encouraged her softly.

She paused for a moment, her hair tickling my jaw, so I squeezed her gently, my chin resting on the top of her head. "What is it, Bella?"

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" She spoke quietly but in a rushed tone so it took my sluggish brain a second or two to catch up with her words.

"The right thing?" I asked, confused. She didn't reply so I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilted her head up so I could see her face.

I looked into her depthless brown eyes, wide and earnest as she gazed up at me, and noticed the little crease resting between her eyebrows.

"You know, the right thing – with us," she explained sheepishly, squirming as she tried to avoid meeting my eyes.

"I'm still not quite following," I said cautiously, not sure where she was going but wary nonetheless.

"I mean," she went on, blushing delicately, "should we, erm, behave in the way we – have been, recently?"

Suddenly, I realised what she was trying to say and let out a carefree laugh, gathering her securely in my arms and angling my neck so that our faces were less than an inch apart.

"You mean should I be allowed to hold you," I clarified, brushing my lips to her nose and up her cheeks to her eyelids, "and kiss you." My mouth swept across her soft skin until my lips were hovering against hers, barely touching them, holding very still.

I paused for a moment, as if contemplating. "No," I decided, pulling quickly away and rolling to the other side of the bed. "You're right. It would be wrong."

She growled angrily, a frustrated, would-be threatening sound, and flipped to her hands and knees to crawl after me. Kneeling before me, she coiled her arms in a death-grip around my neck and tugged, catching me off balance so I fell forwards, over her, just catching myself on my elbows before we landed on the mattress. "Don't tease me!" she threatened.

"Tease you?" I exclaimed in wide-eyed innocence. "As if I would!"

"Be quiet," she grumbled, pulling on my neck again until I could taste her breath on my lips. "Kiss me now."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, pressing my mouth to hers and holding her down on the bed in the cage of my arms. Our lips shaped themselves around each other, moving together and pulling apart in a rhythm that felt as old as the hills. I allowed my tongue to sweep along the length of Bella's lip and she sighed quietly, her hands sliding up from my neck and pushing through my hair that was growing longer again and would soon need to be cut back to its army crew.

Her lips parted slightly and I slipped my tongue into her mouth, flicking it against hers and running it around her teeth. She took my bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on it, surprising me so I lost my focus for a moment; my arms lost their purchase on the bed, dropping me on top of Bella.

Worried that I would crush her, I quickly pushed myself up with my palms so I was back to resting just above her, but she kept her arms around me, refusing to allow our mouths to break apart. I felt her smile against my lips as I tried to regain control, shocked but irrefutably aroused by her show of dominance.

We kept kissing for a few more minutes before I finally found the strength to pull away. Dragging my lips from side to side on her mouth, I lifted my head a little before planting one more soft kiss on her flushed lips. We both struggled a little to catch our breath, but when we were calmer, I smiled at her, unable to disguise the mirth shining on my face. "So I take it kissing is permissible?"

She smirked at me, shoving at my shoulders and I obliged, pushing myself up and resting back on my heels. She sat up in front of me and shifted to her knees so that we were almost eye to eye. Running her fingers softly over my cheekbones and eyebrows, she pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth. "Absolutely," she replied, a mocking edge to her voice. "In fact, it's not only permissible, it's mandatory."

"Good to know," I groaned as she pulled away and clambered with a little difficulty off the sloping bed, her sweet, pervading scent lingering in my nostrils and teasing me as she moved further away.

Bending to rifle through her bag, she pulled out a bundle of fabric that looked like a clean blouse and walked to the door, turning briefly to throw over her shoulder, "I'm going to get changed."

"Who's the tease now?" I called after her, disgruntled, and I heard a faint laugh echo from the corridor before the door swung shut behind her.

Groaning in surrender, I closed my eyes and pressed my palms tightly over them, willing away the images of Bella pressed close to me, kissing me, running her hands all over me.

After a minute or two, I sighed and opened my eyes, stretching my arms over my head and easing out any knots in my muscles. I felt more relaxed than I had in months, despite being so tightly wound, and my limbs felt loose and lithe today.

I slid off the bed and the blanket I had been sitting on slithered into a pile in the middle of the mattress, the dip seeming more like a crater after the two of us sleeping in it. I considered making the bed, but then rebelled against the idea. With any luck, Bella and I would mess it up again very soon.

I walked over the spot on the floor where I had dropped my bag the night before, and tipped the contents out onto the dresser. I had packed only the bare minimum for polite company: a clean shirt and socks, soap and razor and my wallet, which was hopefully still in my jacket pocket.

Grabbing the razor and cake of creamy soap, I ventured down the hallway to the small communal bathroom at the end of the corridor. It was dingy and looked covered in grime, but seemed to be fully functioning, which was impressive for rural France. Clearly they were advanced here in Brest, the hub of sleazy port society.

I shaved and splashed my face with water, the cold washing away any last traces of sleep that lingered around my person. I noticed, peering into the spotted and cracked mirror, that the dark circles under my eyes had lightened somewhat and that my skin was slightly raw but healthy looking, part of a gradual improvement that had started as soon as I had left the trenches.

Patting my face dry with my sleeve, I walked back to the room and slipped my key into the door, jangling it a little until it swung open on its old, lopsided hinges. I picked my jacket up off the floor, dusting it off apologetically, and hung it over the dresser next to Bella's.

Thinking about Bella's state of dress, or rather undress in the next room, I felt a hot blush sweep over my cheeks and I shook my head quickly. Despite all that I had seen on the front line, I was still relatively innocent and one glance from Bella from beneath her long lashes could knock me to my knees.

The shirt I had packed was still, miraculously, relatively unscrumpled so I discarded the one I had been wearing for a day and a night and slipped on the fresh white one. I was just finishing buttoning it up when there was a soft rap at the door, and I strode over to reveal Bella on the threshold.

Although it had been only a matter of minutes since I had last set eyes on her, I still felt a rapturous grin spread across my face and had a sudden desire to hold her. Resisting, I stood back to let her in and watched as she walked past me, her hips swinging slightly and her lips curving up into an irresistible smile.

I thanked God that she had chosen me, and then I thanked Him that Emmett could not read what was in my mind. I could just picture his brain whirring as he came up with merciless taunts to plague me for months.

"Is Marie up yet?" I asked and she shook her head.

"No, she was still asleep. I didn't want to disturb her. She's been working so hard lately."

She fished a hairbrush out of her bag as I finished tucking in my shirt and sat on the edge of the bed, flinging her hair over one shoulder as she tried to run her fingers through the tangles. She snarled in frustration as they caught again and again in straggly knots, and I bit back a chuckle, climbing over the bed so that I was kneeling behind her.

I took the hairbrush from her hand and, trying to disguise the humour in my voice, said, "Let me."

"I can brush my own hair, Edward!" she snapped, but I only laughed lightly.

"I know that but, please, allow me. You just relax."

She stopped fighting me for the brush but sat rigid, her hands bunched in her lap as if poised to, at any time, snatch the brush back or push me away.

Undeterred, I swept her hair over her shoulder until it ran in uneven waves down her back, smoothing it as gently as I could. One strand at a time, I ran the brush through it, teasing out the knots and tangles one by one. Bella didn't say anything but gradually she began to relax against me, as she decided that I was unlikely to decapitate or scalp her.

As I worked round her head, the straggly waves began to shine, and flecks of auburn and gold jumped out from the rich brown in the early morning sunlight that poured through the one small window.

As I pulled the brush through her thick, dark hair, I seemed to be almost falling into a trance, the two of us lost to our own private world. Our heartbeats appeared to become synchronised and the pulse spread throughout our limbs, thrumming through my every movement. Each stroke of the brush was regular, and even when all the hair was smooth, I kept dragging it through the glossy sheet.

Slowly, we both resurfaced, our eyes slightly unfocused and breaths slow and deep, almost as if we had been drugged. Breaking out of our bubble, Bella turned and took the brush from me, whispering a quick, "Thank you."

I nodded in response, unable to tear my eyes away from her, and I watched as she stood up and, pulling a handful of pins from her jacket pocket, deftly twisted her hair up into a more formal bun. The transformation was staggering, from the relaxed and free woman I had held in my arms, to the held-together one who I was sure could take on the world and win. While I admired the strong, competent Bella of the outside world, seeing the difference only fuelled my determination to get her to let her guard, and her hair down again and become the care-free woman I had spent the night with.

My raptures were shattered by a timid knock on the door and a shy voice calling, "Bella?"

She crossed the room and opened the door, revealing Marie standing on the threshold, twisting her skirt between rough, pink hands.

"Good morning, Marie," I greeted her and she half-nodded in recognition.

Lowering her voice, she stuttered, "Bella, can we – I think we should – I need to – I mean, we do –"

"Marie, are you alright?" Bella asked, concerned, and I tried to look as if I were not paying rapt attention, inspecting a crack in the filthy ceiling with what I hoped was casual indifference.

"Yes, it's just – we just need to talk."

"No problem," Bella promised Marie, taking her hand. "Whatever you need." Marie didn't meet her gaze.

"Edward, we'll be next door," Bella told me, and I nodded, watching the pair of them standing in the doorway. Marie seemed slightly shrunken while Bella stood tall and proud, and I couldn't help but wonder what they needed to talk about.

"Alright. Take as long as you need," I replied and Bella shot me a quick smile. "I'll be here if you need me," I added as an afterthought, but I don't think either of them heard me.

**BPOV**

Marie opened the door to 'our' room, nudging away the shoe that was holding it ajar. I followed her into the room and stopped in the middle of the floor, turning to watch as she hesitantly closed the door behind her. Marie seemed sort of hunched over, shrinking into herself as if she were trying to hide from something, though I couldn't imagine what, and I felt a sudden urge to comfort her.

Reaching out one hand, I implored, "Marie, tell me what's wrong."

She stepped towards me and slipped her hand into mine, and I gave her an encouraging smile. We walked together over to the double bed and I sat on the edge, pulling her down with me.

"Marie?"

She wouldn't quite meet my eye as she replied, "Bella, there's something I need to tell you."

"Alright." I waited.

"This – this is hard, Bella. I'm afraid you're going to be angry."

"Marie, I could never be angry with you!" She still looked doubtful so I squeezed her hand in encouragement. "Really, Marie, I'm sure it's not that bad."

Still not looking at me, Marie said determinedly, "Alright, I'm just going to say it." Taking a deep, slightly unsteady breath, she continued, "Bella, I think I'm in love with Edward."

It took a long moment for the words to sink in, during which I sat frozen on the bed, still holding Marie's hand, refusing to believe what she had just told me. After a minute or two, all the speech I could manage was a faint, "Excuse me?"

"Bella, you heard what I said."

"I – I think I – I don't understand –"

"Bella, I think I love Edward."

It felt like every word was punctuated with a blow to the stomach, and the world seemed to be spinning slightly around me. "That's what I thought you said, but it doesn't make any sense. You can't _love_ Edward."

"Oh, Bella, I'm so sorry! I would never have chosen for this to happen!"

"Well, couldn't you choose not to love him at all?" I half-shouted, jumping up from the bed to stand in front of her, and Marie hung her head.

"I'm so sorry, Bella. Please forgive me."

By this point, however, I was beyond listening rationally to what was coming out of her mouth; her previous words were echoing round and round my head, making me dizzy. _How could she love Edward? Edward was _mine_! She couldn't love him!_

"You can't love him!"

Marie said nothing, only looking up at me with a forlorn, slightly lost expression on her face.

"You can't!" I continued to rave. "I love him!"

"I know, Bella," Marie put in quickly, "and I would never want to spoil that!"

"Spoil that?" I repeated in a daze, turning on my heel to pace the room agitatedly. "Are you going to take him from me?"

"No! No, of course not! I can see how much he loves you."

"You – love him?" I asked hesitantly, hoping that this time the answer would be different.

"I wish I didn't," she replied sadly.

"Answer the question, Marie!" I snapped, and she flinched back slightly from me.

"Yes, Bella, I do. Not nearly as much as you do, though."

"Yours is probably just a schoolgirl infatuation," I told her spitefully, and she nodded in pitiful agreement.

"You're right, Bella. My silly little feelings have nothing on the pair of you."

"Of course they don't. You've barely spoken two words to each other!"

"Bella, that's not quite true."

"What? Of course it is! You don't know him! You can't be in love with someone you don't even know!" I realised that I was sounding deranged and made an effort to calm down, but as soon as I did, my lurking insecurities began to creep back.

"I don't understand it," Marie went on calmly, only a thin edge of desperation in her voice, "and I wish I could feel otherwise. I'm sure I will soon get over it."

"Good," I said slightly petulantly, "because Edward loves me, and nothing could ever change that." I sounded less and less convincing by the second, even to my own ears.

"That's true." Her small voice, completely defenceless and without malice somehow struck a chord in me, despite my self-righteous indignation, and against my will, I found myself softening to her. I had to search her face hard before I could find a trace of sadness beneath the apologetic exterior.

Walking slowly towards the bed, I knelt before Marie as she sat, hunched into herself. "Marie, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Bella. I really am so sorry."

"This is hard for you too, isn't it?"

"I'm alright, Bella, really. Don't worry about me."

Tentatively, I reached out a hand to rest on Marie's but, finding that they were both twisted in her skirt, placed it on her knee instead. "I'm really sorry you're hurting," I told her with as much compassion as I could muster, still feeling as if I had had the rug ripped out from beneath my feet.

Marie nodded and attempted a smile, but it fell short of convincing. "Can you forgive me, Bella? For – for, you know –"

I pondered this for a moment, but knew I could not deny her the words she clearly so needed to hear. "I'm not angry with you, Marie."

"It seemed like you were –"

"No, not really. I was confused and scared – terrified, in fact – that you would take him away from me. I still am, actually."

"I swear I won't, Bella."

"Good, because I will never love anyone nearly as much as I love Edward. I couldn't contemplate losing him to anyone." I was surprised at my own boldness, declaring my feelings to anyone other than Edward so vehemently. I supposed that desperation pushed us to do things we would usually be uncomfortable with. Certainly, Marie and I were being more open than we had ever been before.

"So –" Marie paused uncertainly "– can we still be friends?"

I summoned a smile and patted her knee comfortingly, assuring her, "Of course. Of course."

Marie's smile was a little brighter this time and I struggled to hold mine on my face in reply. "Thank you, Bella. I knew you'd understand."

_She knew I'd understand._ My mind was flying at about one hundred miles an hour, the two sides of me warring over what I should say in reply. The less noble side was urging me to shout and scream, to tear Marie limb from limb for even thinking about Edward in that way. The kinder side, the side that recognised that I really did care for Marie, was the only thing that held me back, whispering soothingly in my ear that I should be understanding and gentle. Clearly, Marie was hurting, too, and needed a friend.

I wasn't sure, yet, whether I could be her friend, but I knew that I couldn't heap all the blame on her. That wasn't to say that I wouldn't watch her like a hawk from now on, but I would not abandon her. The question was whether I could be her friend knowing what was in her mind.

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**Sorry if this chapter seems a little psychedelic in places but I was listening to Leonard Cohen's '_Hallelujah_' over and over again and it might have put me into a trance ;) It's a great song, though, and you should give it a go - the link's on my profile, if you're interested.**

**Now, I have some VERY EXCITING things to share - very exciting for me, at least :P**

**1. Voting is now open for the FINAL ROUND of the _Make It Count Contest_ and my _To Love An Angel_ is in it! I'm absolutely amazed that I came first in the preliminary stage so I want to thank anyone who may have voted for me! If you would like to do it again, my heart might just burst with affection for you - link's on my profile :) Even if you don't want to vote, you should pop over to the community and read some of the finalist stories - they're only 1000 words and really good!**

**2. I have been honoured with a glowing recommendation over on _The_ _Lazy Yet Discerning Ficster_ written by the wonderful BITTENEV who I'm sure you all know for her genius! I am so excited that I've told just about everybody, and the link's on my profile so I can share the wonder with you guys :D**

**3. I don't know how this can be, but I also have another wonderful recommendation from Orioncat on her youtube Twilight channel! She said really nice things about me, although why I cannot fathom, and I would love for some readers of G&R to pop over and say 'hi' to her as well. The link to the video which recommends this story is on my profile.**

**Phew, I think that's everything! Thank you so much for reading and don't forget to review (and vote!) :)**


	29. Strange Meeting

**Hi everybody. Sorry it's taken me longer than usual to get out this chapter - the words just weren't flowing for me, explaining why this chapter is shorter than usual :( I figured, though, that it was better to get something up than nothing at all, and so I apologise for the fact that this is a bit of a filler. Hopefully the next one will come more willingly.**

**Even-more-enormouser-than-usual thanks to Cullenista who held my hand while I moaned and whined about this chapter, and who talked me off the edge of the proverbial skyscraper. I owe you one (or two million) :)**

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Strange Meeting

**EPOV**

The sharp straw itched under my back, my mind still drifting amongst fluffy pillows and soft sheets, and I shifted uncomfortably on the makeshift pallet. The moonlight winked through the chinks in the roof at me, and I stared up into the raven sky, wondering how far I would have to travel to see Heaven. A mere year ago, I would have scoffed at my own musings, but these days I was beginning to feel that anything that preached a kind of life after death could hold some weight. At any rate, I would lose nothing by trying.

I should have been weary after the day of travelling; the train journey from Brest back to Amiens had been long and hot, and the jolting trap to Corbie and, finally, the walk to Allonville had worn me to the bone. This night, however, was arresting in its clearness and the stars were bright in the dark sky. Perhaps it was the muggy warmth of the air in the barn, or perhaps the reflections dancing through my head of our trip to Brest, but sleep continued to evade me.

I had never learnt what passed between the two girls in the rented room above the tavern, but even I could see that when they emerged, everything was different. There was a new edge, an awkwardness that hung in a cloud above our group, and any number of light jokes or witticisms could not disperse it. Bella was tense, I could tell, and Marie seemed deflated, shrunken: defeated.

I had asked Bella what was wrong, what they had talked about, but she had brushed me off tersely. It was none of my concern, she snapped, but I could hear an undertone of something else in her voice. Sadness? Regret? Fear?

I had held her close, feeling that it was the only thing I could do to offer comfort faced with this unknown enemy, and she had relaxed, snuggling into my arms. Then Marie had approached us, and Bella was all bristles again. I could not understand what had changed; only the day before, Bella and Marie had whispered and giggled together, and now Bella looked at her as a threat, a rival. I could not imagine what they were fighting for.

Ben had returned to the tavern early the next morning, eyes alight and gleaming as he accosted me in the corridor between rooms.

"_Edward, Edward, you won't believe it!" he exclaimed, barrelling into me with almost maniacal enthusiasm._

"_Try me," I retorted dryly._

"_Angela is to return with us to Corbie! She says she wants to come with us and live there so that we can see each other more often!"_

_He seemed so swept away with excitement that I hated to put a dampener on his spirits, but I could not help but reply, "Ben, have you thought this through? She cannot just up and leave Brest! She can't leave her family, her livelihood –"_

"_We've got it all worked out!" he interrupted, the glint in his eye hardly diminished. "She'll get a job in Corbie, perhaps in a shop or bakery, and take a room for let somewhere in the town. I'll help to pay her rent if necessary until she's settled."_

"_I know you will, Ben, but don't you think this will be hard for her?" I asked, unable to squash my concern._

"_She says she wants the adventure! Edward, think how it could be!"_

She wanted an adventure. I rolled my eyes, thinking where I had heard that before. Although, Bella's coming to Corbie had worked out better than I could have hoped. We had been together, I had held her in my arms, had woken each morning with the promise of seeing her face. None of that could have happened if she had done as I had told her and stayed safely at home.

I sighed into the darkness, turning my head on the prickly straw to peer across the barn at the sleeping figures of Ben and Elliot, the hulking silhouette of Emmett just behind them. I didn't see how Ben could sleep so soundly, quiet grunts harmonising with Emmett's snores ripping from his chest, knowing Angela was mere miles away. I tossed and turned each night I was away from Bella, missing her soft weight in my arms. They felt unnaturally hollow, as if I had lost a part of my own body, and my thick great coat was no substitute for her warm embrace.

_That was the trouble with happiness,_ I mused, staring broodingly through the crack in the roof; _it made solitude all the harder to bear._ I knew that I couldn't begrudge Bella's absence now, though, if it was the price I had to pay for the most incredible weekend of my life. We had spent one night, only one night together in Brest, but it had changed everything. I felt closer to her than I ever had before and I was sure she felt the same way about me.

She had been strange, though, this morning, and I was suddenly worried that she was changing her mind about me, about _us_. Anxiously, I ran through the events of the day, pausing contemplatively on a couple that stood out. She had been flirtatious and light-hearted when we first woke up, laughing with me and pressing her body to mine in a way that derailed my thought process even now.

It was later on that Bella started to act bizarrely: after Ben had told me about Angela coming to Corbie, I realised. Could she be upset about that? Angela and her seemed to get on really well, judging on the short time they had spent together, and the three girls threatened to form a tight knit group. Ben and I would clearly have to watch ourselves, outnumbered in such a way.

An incident on the train back to Amiens had been the first real sign that all was not quite right, as Bella and Marie both seemed on edge, though Angela was relaxed and wrapped up in Ben. Marie looked almost frightened and was twisting her skirt between her fingers as if agitated and distraught. Bella, in contrast, stared coldly out of the window, not making eye contact with anyone and keeping her hands firmly clasped in her lap. I had never seen such distance between the two of them, and I had been puzzled as to what could have formed a rift between them.

_Marie fidgeted uncomfortably on the seat opposite from me and I caught her eye as it darted warily around the carriage, smiling encouragingly in the hope that I could calm her. From next to Marie, a muscle twitched in Bella's cheek, although she did not turn her head in our direction. Marie hastily broke our gaze and went back to staring at her hands, rough and pink from hard work in the hospital. _

"_Marie, are you alright?" I found myself asking, and she flinched slightly as I addressed her. _

_Sneaking a look at Bella from the corner of her eye, Marie answered, "Yes, I'm quite alright. Thank you, Edward."_

_The last word was practically a whisper but she uttered it with a kind of nervousness, as if afraid she would be reprimanded for saying my name out loud. I nodded, not entirely convinced._

_A minute later, Marie jumped from her seat and stood on her tiptoes to reach up to the luggage rack above our heads. She was only just tall enough to graze the case with her fingertips, and I was about to get up to help her when the train lurched suddenly and she was propelled almost into my lap, clutching at my shoulder to regain her balance. _

_I helped her back upright as she blushed madly, and I looked up to see Bella on her feet, eyes blazing with anger. Marie shrank back into her seat and Bella glared at her for a moment before sinking back down herself. I watched the whole exchange with absolute bewilderment, not daring to ask for fear of ripping wide the wound that was festering in their friendship. _

_Almost timidly, I asked, "Marie, did you want anything from the case?"_

"_No, thank you," she replied in a small voice, not looking at me but at Bella, who refused to acknowledge her._

The rest of the journey had passed in mostly uncomfortable silence between the three of us, Ben and Angela being too absorbed in one another to notice any uneasiness on our part. I couldn't wait to be alone with Bella so I could find out what was going on, but somehow the topic was never raised. For one of the few times in my life, I felt slightly intimidated by the fierce Bella that stood before me and was reluctant to bring her precarious ire down on myself.

We parted at Corbie, Ben and I having paid a boy with a horse and trap to take us back to the town, and the two of us walked the ten or so miles to Allonville. We arrived around mid-afternoon where Emmett greeted us with a rousing chorus of 'We're all going calling on the Kaiser,' beer bottle in hand.

Ben fretted for an hour or two over whether or not Angela would be comfortable, but I reassured him as best I could. Bella and Marie had promised her they could find her a bed for the night, and her job search would begin in the morning. It seemed that Ben had finally begun to regret his rashness in bringing Angela back, but I was confident that we could make it work. After all, everything was working out for Bella and I.

**BPOV**

The clanking and rattling of the ward filled my ears as trays were carried and cupboards stocked, steel kidney dishes clanging together as they were unceremoniously scoured with bleach. I had never thought that I would find the cold, impersonal hospital ward remotely friendly, but I couldn't deny that on some level, I was relieved to be back. What with being ill, then running off to Brest with Edward, it had been some time since I'd done the rounds of a morning.

I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I saw that beds which had previously been occupied with smiling faces now lay empty, and I resolved to ask no-one where they were. Trying to hold off the sadness that welled up inside me, I acknowledged that I probably didn't want to know.

One bed was still occupied, however, and it was one of my first ports of call as I went round the ward, chatting to the patients and making notes on their charts. Jacob grinned at me as I approached his corner at the far end of the long hall and I smiled ruefully back, feeling kind of lifted at seeing his unfailingly cheerful face.

"Nurse Swan!" he called when I was close enough that he wouldn't have to shout, and as I neared his bedside his voice lowered. "Bella."

"Good morning, Jacob," I returned, smiling broadly at him, noticing that he seemed almost alight from the inside. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better now," he assured me fervently, and I nodded and scribbled a few words down on the clipboard I cradled in my arms.

"Excellent," I replied, brisk and professional. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I'll take a look at that leg, see how it's healing."

He gestured for me to go ahead and turned his face away as I moved the blankets off the offending limb, starting to peel away the bandages. The area around where the chunk of Jacob's flesh that was missing still looked raw and slightly swollen, and the wound was oozing yellow pus. Gritting my teeth, I started dabbing at the skin around the area with iodine, ignoring the way Jacob flinched and tensed under my touch.

I had to make sure the wound was kept clean so, regardless of the way his face was screwed up in pain, I continued scouring the torn flesh until I was satisfied. Patting it dry, I began the process of refreshing his bandages, covering the area with a dressing followed by gauze wrapped on top.

"Bella," he began as I pinned the fiddly bandages tightly together.

"Yes, Jacob?" I replied, winding up the ends of the gauze to be reused at a later date.

"You can call me Jake if you like," he interjected shyly and I nodded, wondering where he was going with this.

"Alright, Jake. What is it?"

"Where have you been? You were ill for a while, then you and Marie disappeared for a couple of days. Where were you? Nobody would tell me anything."

"I wasn't here, Jake."

"I know that," he persisted, rolling his eyes. "Where were you?"

I paused, considering for a moment, but then decided that no harm could come from telling him where I had really been. "I was in Brest."

"Brest?" he echoed, surprise evident in his tone, and I nodded, about to turn away to attend to another patient. "Why?"

Sighing, I looked back at him again, almost childlike curiosity and interest playing across his face. "I went with Edward and a friend of his. Marie was my chaperone."

"Edward?" His intonation was flat and his eyes suddenly seemed closed, less friendly and accessible.

"That's right."

"That copper head who came in here and shot his big mouth all over the place?"

"Jacob!" I scolded, equal parts offended and secretly anxious that this could really have happened.

He shrugged, turning his head sulkily away from me. "Just telling it like it is, Bella. If you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, retorting, "Can you please stop talking in clichés and tell me what happened?"

He didn't reply for a moment or two, and I thought he was going to ignore me, when suddenly he spoke in a low, even voice. "It was when you were ill. He came in here looking for you, and got upset," he sneered, "when Sister Martin didn't let him waltz into your bedroom. He got all unreasonable. Shouted at me. He tried to charm Marie to let him in, but she wouldn't. He stormed out after that."

I froze, digesting Jacob's words with painful slowness. Edward had tried to charm Marie? Was that where she got that ridiculous idea that she might be in love with him? I shuddered at thinking the words even in my head, but tried to hide the fact that I was on the edge of my seat as I asked, "What did Edward say to Marie?"

He shrugged, not seeming to realise how vitally important this was to me, and snorted his derision. "I don't know. I couldn't hear. Anyone could see she was hanging onto his every word, though."

I could feel my nostrils flare as I clenched my fists beneath the folds of the heavy-duty apron, willing myself not to run off to find Marie right now to inflict some serious damage. Since we had got back to the hospital yesterday afternoon, relations between the two of us had been strained to say the least and, although I was trying to forgive her, I was not yet ready to trust her as I once had.

This revelation, however, only confirmed my worst fears. She had been flirting with _my_ Edward while I lay ill just in the next building. Worse still, Edward had been trying to charm her, probably not realising the effect he was having on her susceptible mind. Suddenly, a chilling thought struck me: what if he hadn't been the innocent victim, unaware of the potency of his charm and good looks? What if, finding that I was not available, he had attached himself to the nearest girl to pass the time?

Deep down, I knew I was being unreasonable: Edward loved me, I was sure of that, and I trusted him implicitly. Yet, despite all that, I found myself being sucked once more into the web of self-doubt that sometimes overpowered me, stripping away all my confidence and trust. _Edward would never betray me_, I reassured myself. Nonetheless, someone had been responsible for their little tryst a few days ago, and I thought I had a pretty good idea who that someone was.

Next time I saw Marie, she was going to have hell to pay.

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**So, little bit of a cliffie here but nothing too drastic. I'd love to hear your thoughts, though: any predictions/requests for future chapters? Let me assure you, there will be some more Edward/Bella time coming soon.**

**I'm going to really really really try to update more regularly but it's hard! It takes me so much time to write a chapter, no matter how long, but I'll do my best for you guys. I think you deserve to read the rest :D Just trust me, OK? I have no intention of abandoning this story - she's like a child to me - but some updates may come a little slower, or be slightly more controversial. Please don't understand that to mean that I'm going to put the characters through hell, but it can't all be fluffy. **

**And please review! Even if it's only to tell me that this chapter's crap and you hate my guts for not updating sooner. You may think this makes me a psycho, but I still really want to hear that...**


	30. Death By Fire

**Yes, I know you probably can't believe your eyes but here is another update, a real one, in just over a week! I know this is not a feat to celebrate for many authors, but I'm kind of proud of myself :D**

**As this is the thirtieth chapter, I'd like to say a few words...**

***ahem***

**This chapter, in all its glory, is dedicated to some special people who have supported me from the start of this story. Yes, you know who you are, step on up here. I'd just like to mention a few names:**

**First, of course, my glorious beta, Cullenista, who edited this for me even when dying from a headache (no kidding) and calmed my nerves about posting it. Because I am nervous. Maybe you'll figure out why.**

**Also thanks to: vamosrafa07 - you've always been there for me, girl, from the very first chapter and I love ya for it :P Monica08 - also a dedicated reviewer Edward's La tua Cantante - you write the nicest reviews EJ Santry - we have a special bond ;)**

**And to all the people who joined later: silly livy loves twilight, AvatarTwilightObsession, Orioncat, , , Cant-get-enough-twilight, MissAlex, songster, JennWithTheGoldenEyes, MsNaomi05, lululuvstwilight, juliette89, twilightfanpire43, kools0808, antariangirl93, MellyMeliza, AdabellaCullen**

**I've missed out loads, I know, and I'm sorry about that. These are just the people who I can mostly count on. I honestly appreciate EVERY SINGLE REVIEW (I put that in caps so as to distract you from the cliché) and I do reply to them all (unless you send me ten in one day - you know who you are :P).**

**And I know that 716 is nowhere near a record for this site, but I'm pretty damn proud!**

**Ah, so much pride. Pride comes before a fall, you know. Let's just hope that this chapter isn't my fall ;) I'm nervous about posting it, although I think you'll like it. Just be sure to calm my nerves with a review when you're done, hmm?**

_Reminder of the end of the last chapter:_

_I could feel my nostrils flare as I clenched my fists beneath the folds of the heavy-duty apron, willing myself not to run off to find Marie right now to inflict some serious damage. Since we had got back to the hospital yesterday afternoon, relations between the two of us had been strained to say the least and, although I was trying to forgive her, I was not yet ready to trust her as I once had._

_This revelation, however, only confirmed my worst fears. She had been flirting with my Edward while I lay ill just in the next building. Worse still, Edward had been trying to charm her, probably not realising the effect he was having on her susceptible mind. Suddenly, a chilling thought struck me: what if he hadn't been the innocent victim, unaware of the potency of his charm and good looks? What if, finding that I was not available, he had attached himself to the nearest girl to pass the time?_

_Deep down, I knew I was being unreasonable: Edward loved me, I was sure of that, and I trusted him implicitly. Yet, despite all that, I found myself being sucked once more into the web of self-doubt that sometimes overpowered me, stripping away all my confidence and trust. Edward would never betray me, I reassured myself. Nonetheless, someone had been responsible for their little tryst a few days ago, and I thought I had a pretty good idea who that someone was._

_Next time I saw Marie, she was going to have hell to pay._

Death By Fire

**BPOV**

I finished putting away the leftover materials from Jacob's clean dressing, closing the store cupboard door with a little more force than was strictly necessary. This attracted a disapproving glance from one of the more senior nurses who patrolled the ward, but at that moment I didn't care. I was fuming, incensed that Marie would have the nerve to try and charm Edward the minute my back was turned. Since her confession yesterday morning, I had assumed that she had been keeping these feelings to herself, locking them inside in a way that must be most upsetting. This had allowed me to experience some sympathy for her, but Jacob's revelation had shattered that for me in one fell swoop.

I stomped around the ward as I continued my rounds, uncharacteristically brusque as I inquired after each patient's health. Several mentioned being pleased to see me after my few days' absence, and this helped to cool my rage, pushing the anger down so that it was festering further beneath the surface.

By the time I had made it halfway around the beds, I was able to put an almost genuine smile on my face as I interrogated and took temperatures, my scribbles on the clipboard becoming steadily less violent and more legible. I began to breathe more deeply, starting to allow some of my anger to seep away, and I decided that as long as I did not see Marie for another hour or two, I could refrain from exploding at her in the middle of the ward.

However, fate decreed that it was not to be. As I turned on my heel to begin the second row of beds, my eyes locked straight onto the waif-like brown-haired girl who stood before me, eyes wide and nervous as they took me in.

"Good morning, Bella," she murmured tremulously, and I had to bunch my fists tightly to keep from throttling her. My own violent tendencies astounded me; up to this point, I had never had the slightest desire to hurt anybody to express anger. I had been a peace-loving child, docile and biddable so that I was often imposed on, and this uncontrollable urge to do physical harm was entirely new. Apparently, my instinct to fight for Edward, tooth and claw if necessary, awakened a whole new side to my personality; a side that was unfamiliar and yet, at this moment, seemed rational and very attractive.

"Marie," I replied, my cool tone belying the anger that boiled underneath. "I would like to talk to you."

"Alright." She looked puzzled and ill at ease, but this was no time to calm her nerves.

"Outside?" I suggested detachedly, and she complied with an anxious glance around her.

The two of us slipped out of the front door of the hospital, hoping that we would not be reported to a ward Sister, and I led the way around the side of the building. Sheltered by the red brick of the town hall, I turned to her and accused icily, "You lied to me."

She looked confused and anxious, her fingers bound tightly with the strings of her apron. "What do you mean, Bella?"

"I mean that you didn't tell me the truth about you and Edward," I clarified with a little more emotion. "You came up to my room when I was ill, pretending to be concerned about me, but really you were spending time with Edward while I was in my sickbed!"

"No!" she gasped in apparent surprise, and protested, "I only saw Edward once or twice while you were ill, I swear to you, and each time he was looking for you."

"So you decided to take advantage of the fact that my back was turned?" I spat out spitefully, my tongue getting carried away before my head could rationalise and soften my words.

"No! Of course not, Bella! I would never do that."

Slightly more doubtfully, I pressed, "Jacob saw you and Edward one day in the ward; he said that you were flirting."

"We did talk," she conceded, "but I promise that nothing else happened." I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at her as she continued, "Honestly, Bella, he has eyes for no-one but you."

A heavy silence hung between us for a few moments, before I croaked out, "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Marie's face crumpled slightly and her voice was small and pitiful as she replied, "I'm your friend, Bella."

I frowned, biting my lip as I considered her words. It was true that she had been my friend and we had been close. She dropped her head and her bottom lip started to tremble, as if she were trying to hold back sobs.

I could not help but soften as I saw her start to break down before me, and gingerly reached out a hand to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder. "I'd like to trust you," I confessed, and Marie nodded forlornly.

"I wish you would." Her voice cracked pitifully in the middle.

We stood like that for perhaps another minute, neither of us wanting to move for fear of shattering the newfound truce between us. I would try to go back to that easy friendship we'd had before but the truth was that I didn't see Marie in the same way anymore. Overnight, she had transformed from a friend to a rival, and nothing on Earth would make me surrender Edward. If I ever felt that she was a threat of any kind, I would not hesitate to take her down, and I think she knew that.

"I should go back inside," I offered after a minute or two, and she nodded minutely.

"I'm right behind you."

I turned and walked back into the hospital, not glancing over my shoulder to see if she really was following me.

It seemed that no-one had noticed the absence of two trainee nurses for a couple of minutes as by now it was mid morning and everybody had a job to do. I picked up my chart again and continued my rounds among the patients, chatting to each and trying to bring a little companionship to their monotonous hospital routine.

I couldn't imagine how it would feel to be stuck in bed for weeks at a time, in a hospital ward which you shared with countless nurses and other patients. Surrounded by the dying, ill and otherwise wounded, I think I would have lost my mind, were it not for the hard work and long hours.

"Mornin' nurse!" Bill Harris called and I waved at him, smiling. The courage of the soldiers both who lay injured here and fought on the front line always astounded me. It was rare that one of them could not summon a smile for me, when really pressed.

"Bella!" Marie called and I took a deep breath before turning slowly, hoping that it was not something that would make me revoke my peace offering.

She was waving and pointing from the other end of the hall, and when I followed her gesticulations, I saw Edward standing in the doorway. My face instantly broke into a smile, although it had only been the day before that I had last seen him, and I waved. He grinned and raised a hand in response. I tapped my watch and mouthed that I still had half an hour left on my shift, and he nodded casually, leaning up against the wall to wait for me.

**EPOV**

I watched Bella flit around the ward, looking as if she were trying to resist skipping. She began to unload piles of sheets from the store cupboard and moved them to a metal trolley, stacking it until they towered above her head. She then proceeded to push the teetering metal contraption from bed to bed, passing out clean linen to the nurses changing the beds.

A wide smile lit her face as she talked to the patients and nurses alike, and an answering smile crept across my own face as my eyes followed her. She seemed to take genuine pleasure in her work, and her rapport with the patients was excellent.

I chuckled to myself as I saw her stub her toe on a bedstead, hopping unsteadily for a moment as she made a face. She caught a glimpse of me as she inspected the damaged article, sticking her tongue out in response to my laughs.

I had to admit that, despite the odd accident that made her my Bella, I couldn't help being impressed with her strength and competence as she manoeuvred the monstrous cart around the ward, stopping to chat to patients and fetching them things if they were lacking.

I was suddenly overtaken by pride and amazement that Bella was a nurse and went about such work more or less unnoticed. If I was being truthful, I had never taken her calling particularly seriously up to this point, but now I saw how wrong I was. If any job required courage and patience it was nursing, and Bella seemed to me to be one of the best of them.

My eye drifted lazily with Bella as she moved, idly admiring the way the stiff nurse's uniform bustled slightly around her hips when she walked, when I noticed that someone else was doing the same thing. My gaze fell unceremoniously upon Jacob Black, who was assessing Bella's figure in much the same way as I had been doing. The difference was, of course, that I was allowed, as she was mine.

My lip curled in distaste as I surveyed him, but I was about to look away and be the bigger man, secure in my faith in Bella, when he looked straight at me and smirked. I glared back, shocked that he would have the audacity to look at Bella that way when he knew I could see, and he held my gaze for a second or two before glancing away.

Very deliberately, checking back occasionally to see that I was watching, Jacob waved to Bella and beckoned her to him. She walked over, inclining her head as she asked him something. He shook his head but gestured for her to come closer, so that she was standing right by the head of his bed.

He said something – I was out of earshot – and Bella laughed, tilting back her head slightly in the way that she usually did with me. I was itching to march over there and demand he leave her alone, but I knew that would be unreasonable and it would only make Bella angry if I insulted one of her patients.

I was on the verge of changing my mind, however, when he put his filthy hand on her arm, laughing with her. He said something and she bent down so he could whisper in her ear and then, with a smug glance in my direction, he planted a kiss on her cheek.

My blood boiled as I saw her jump in surprise, scolding him affectionately with a mock angry look on her face. He grinned shamelessly at her, and that unapologetic complacence spurred me into action. Pushing off the wall I was resting against, my hands already balled into fists, I stormed across the ward to the end bed.

"Edward Masen!" Black crowed as I approached, indicating to Bella that I was coming over. "How nice of you to join us."

"Black," I spat back in reply, closing my fingers around Bella's arm. "We need to leave."

"Leave?" Bella repeated in surprise, her eyes scanning my face in puzzlement. "Edward, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk," I said between my teeth, my jaw tight as I clenched them together.

"Now? Can't it wait twenty minutes?"

"No, it has to be now," I insisted, ignoring Jacob who must have been watching us from the bed right behind Bella.

"Edward, I can't leave in the middle of my shift!" Bella protested, but I didn't listen and began to lead her towards the door. She didn't fight me but grumbled incoherently as I frogmarched her out of the town hall and part way across the grass of the town square.

When we were in the middle of the green, Bella wrenched her arm out of my grasp and glared fiercely at me, arms crossed over her chest. "What was that about?" she demanded.

"I thought I told you to stay away from Jacob Black!" I hissed, and if possible she looked even more furious.

"You dragged me out here to talk about Jacob? What do you have against him?"

"I don't like him. Stay away from him!"

Bella's jaw tightened and she spat back at me, "Do not tell me what to do, Edward! I'm sorry that you don't like Jacob, but that doesn't give you the right to cause a scene in the middle of the ward!"

My jaw tightened still further as I fumed, "He takes any opportunity to lay his hands on you and he did it when he knew I was watching!"

"He was just being friendly," she seethed, but I shook my head vehemently.

"Trust me, Bella, he does not want to just be your friend. He was behaving inappropriately to provoke me!"

"Well, I'll have to congratulate him!" she retorted, anger still twisting her face. "It looks like he succeeded."

I wanted nothing more than to run back into that hall and punch the lights out of Jacob Black, but instead I balled up my fists, pressing them to my eyelids as I tried to calm down. Pulling deep breaths through my teeth, I counted to a hundred, lost in the red haze that was fading from my mind.

When I opened my eyes again, Bella was gone and I sighed, dropping my head back into my hands. Following the shadow of a cloud that was being blown across the warm blue sky, I made my way over to the tree in the middle of the green where Bella and I had talked what seemed like years ago, and rested my hands against the trunk.

I don't know how long I stood there; it could have been days but for the sun that never disappeared and only crept slowly towards the centre of the sky. I didn't want to look up, didn't want to feel anything but the rough bark under my fingertips or the light breeze on my face. The sun was strong and hot as it burned down on the back of my neck, peeking between the leaves of the old oak that cast a dappled shade in a wreath around me.

Lost in thought, I almost didn't feel the soft hand on my back, or the warmth radiating from the person behind me. I instantly recognised the sweet scent embracing me and turned, meeting Bella's eyes with sad resignation. I wordlessly opened my arms and folded her into them, holding her quietly as her own arms wrapped tightly around my back. We stood together for a couple of minutes before I felt ready to break the silence, breathing, "I love you."

"I love you, too," she murmured against my chest, and my skin tingled slightly where the vibrations passed through me.

I was happier now, but still felt the need to add, "I'm sorry."

She nodded, her hair tickling the bottom of my chin. "Me too."

After a slight pause I said with a smile, "I really hate Jacob Black."

She pulled away and smacked my chest, but when I caught her hands and reeled her back into me she didn't look upset.

"Can you try to be civil?" she pleaded with me, knowing I couldn't deny her anything she asked.

"I can try," I replied with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. Bending down, I pressed a soft kiss to her lips, pulling back quickly. "Walk with me."

She smiled and kept hold of my hand so I was cradling her smaller one in my calloused fingers. I didn't know where we were going but led the way regardless, strolling down a side lane away from the centre of the town.

The path was littered with pebbles and uneven stones, tracks from cartwheels pressed into the dirt. Short, spiky grass grew among the dust and ahead I could see the path winding up a hill and far into the distance.

We walked for about twenty minutes, sometimes speaking, sometimes silent, before I decided that we had gone far enough and stopped facing a waist-high wall behind which was a wide open field of corn.

I inclined my head towards the wall and Bella rolled her eyes, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. "After you."

I walked up to the wall and scrambled effortlessly onto the top of it, smirking down at Bella. "See? Easy."

She shook her head, indicating her stiff nurse's uniform which included a skirt that came to mid-calf.

"Come on!" I encouraged and, with a sigh, Bella approached the wall. I showed her where to put her feet and, holding her hand in mine, half-pulled her onto the dry stone wall. We looked around us at the field on the other side, bathed in yellow sunlight, each ear of corn glinting a rich gold. I jumped down onto the grass, pulling Bella with me, and we stared at the shimmering landscape before us.

A breeze rustled through the green stalks and they swayed apart, as if creating a path for us to walk through. Pulling Bella by the hand, I ambled along the divide created by the leaning corn, a copse visible in the distance and the sky above a clear blue. The breath of air seemed to sweep us forward and we complied, feeling weightless as we drifted through the golden rows.

Pulling Bella to a stop, I stepped in front of her and stroked the back of my hand down her cheek, her eyes closing as my fingers brushed by her eyelids. I cupped my hand to her jaw, the other feeling the soft skin at the nape of her neck, and leant down so that my face was less than an inch from hers.

I touched a finger to her bottom lip and her mouth opened slightly, her warm breath dancing on my skin. She kissed my fingertip softly, pulling it between her pink lips and keeping her eyes closed as she gently touched her tongue to it.

I gasped and took back my finger, staring at it in amazement as it glistened in the sunlight. My lips found hers, urgently pressing and moving against them, my arms wrapping tightly around her slender body. She responded enthusiastically, coiling one arm around my neck and into my hair, and the other fast behind my back. Her mouth moved with mine, meeting fire with fire, and the temperature in the field seemed to rise by several degrees.

I swept my tongue along her bottom lip and she moaned quietly, opening her mouth a little so I could slide my tongue in. I traced the curve of her teeth, my lips still moving with hers, and she brought her tongue out to meet mine. They danced together, our bodies interlocked, twisted up in each other. Her hands swept through my hair again and I felt a tremble pass through me from the contact, revelling in the sensation of her hands touching me.

Holding Bella tightly to my chest, I let myself fall backwards so that I was lying in the swaying corn, Bella on top of me, never breaking our kiss. Lying like this, we were so close that I felt I would burst. She brought both her hands to my face as I continued to move my mouth with hers and her warm palms traced patterns on my cheeks and forehead, leaving tingles on my skin wherever she touched.

With a low growl, I rolled so that I was hovering over her, my lips slowing a little as I carefully held my weight so I wouldn't hurt her. I traced the outline of her lips with my tongue, savouring the taste and texture, and then dragged my mouth slowly across her jaw and down to her throat. I began to plant slow, open-mouthed kisses up and down her neck and she shivered as I touched the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Edward," she murmured, and I lifted my head to look at her. Grabbing my collar, she pulled me to her lips again and I felt her hand snake beneath my shirt to the back of my neck. I kissed her slowly for a minute then pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, glittering with passion and exertion. She ran her fingers through my hair and I sighed, our breath mixing together as I held our lips a finger-width apart.

Placing one last soft kiss on the corner of her mouth, I rolled off her and collapsed onto the soft grass and scratchy corn, my breaths coming in shallow pants. We lay in silence for several minutes until we could speak clearly again, and then longer as there was nothing to say.

My brain was still lust-fogged and I found it hard to concentrate on anything with her lying so close to me. I turned my attention to the dazzling blue of the sky and the birds that swooped above our heads rather than the beautiful woman at my side, allowing me to calm down enough to attempt to hold a rational conversation.

I asked about Angela and Bella told me that she had gone out job-hunting early this morning. Sister Walker, in a fit of kindness when Sister Martin was not around, had offered her a bed as long as she needed it, and Angela had gratefully accepted, although she did not intend to be a burden for long.

I nodded, trying to pretend that I was really absorbed in Angela's search for the perfect employment, but Bella filled my every sense, her flowery scent swirling around me until I felt lightheaded. Instead of talking, I took her hand and squeezed it, trying to convey in a gesture everything I could not in words.

We lay there for some time, watching the sun rise to the peak of the sky and then dip down slightly. The corn waved gently around us and the leaves on the distant trees rustled and fluttered to the ground, one blowing and catching in Bella's hair. I fished it out tenderly, slipping it into my pocket when I thought she wasn't looking. Anything that made me think of Bella was precious in my eyes.

It was as we were lying there serenely in the grass that I realised just how much I needed Bella, that I never wanted to be anywhere but by her side, no matter what. Calmly, quietly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world I said, "Marry me."

Bella twisted rapidly to look at me, half sitting up, her eyes wide. "What?"

"Marry me," I repeated, catching her gaze and smiling.

"Edward, are you insane?"

I sat up, taking her hand and holding it between both of mine. "Bella, I love you and I want you to be my wife. I don't see anything insane about that."

She began to shake her head and opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. "No, hear me out. I know this is unexpected, and I know I haven't done any of this in the right order; I haven't asked your father; I don't have a ring.

"Bella, none of that matters. What I do know, what I'm sure of is that I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, doing everything I can to make you happy. I want to take care of you and wake up every morning with you by my side." By now my voice had lost its lightness and my eyes bore into hers, trying to convince her that I was in earnest. "Say you'll marry me. Say you'll be my wife."

She stared at me and my heart began to sink, my stomach turning over at the thought of what I would do if she said 'no.' I had planned to wait to secure her hand until I could be sure I would be able to provide for her, until I was sure we wanted the same things, but suddenly I felt that if she turned me down now I would never recover.

There was no point waiting, I realised, for some utopian future that might never arrive when all you wanted was right in front of you. Bella was what I wanted and I wanted her more than I had ever thought it possible to want anything.

She reached out a tentative hand and stroked the tips of her fingers down my cheekbone, her glimmering brown eyes so radiant as they held mine. "Yes," she whispered finally, and I felt light and buoyant, although it took me another moment to work out why.

"You'll marry me?" I asked reverently and she replied with a laugh.

"Yes."

I shifted to my knees and pulled her to me, so we were both kneeling in the rippling corn. "I love you," I whispered, a lump in my throat, and she softly touched my lips then my eyelids with her gentle fingers.

"I love you, Edward," she replied.

The breeze sighed in response and we laughed with it, the tears that were gathering in my eyes making Bella's face look slightly blurred. I held her hands and gazed at her, overwhelmed with love and awe that she had agreed to be mine.

"I'll get you a ring," I promised, but she shook her head.

"You don't have to."

"I will, though," I told her, mentally adding another promise to the list that I had to keep for her.

She reached into her blouse and fished out my grandmother's cross, still hanging from its chain around her neck. Closing it in her palm she whispered, "I have you. I don't need anything else."

I softly touched my lips to the fist that held the cross, then wound my fingers over hers. "I can't believe you're mine."

"I'm always yours," she vowed and captured my mouth with hers, pulling me down so that I was lying on top of her. Taking my hand, she slid it up her body until I was touching her breast, the soft plumpness filling my palm and making me shiver. Then I was kissing her with a new urgency, one I had never felt before, and she was running her hands all over my body and through my hair.

We were burning up together, the fire spreading through us from head to toe, our mouths and bodies tangled together feverishly. She was all I could see and feel and I never wanted it to be any other way. We were kissing and holding each other with certainty and determination and I knew that this time we weren't going to stop.

All the reasons for waiting, for being patient flew out of my head as Bella touched me, pulling off my shirt and running her hands over my chest. Neither of us led but we jumped together, not knowing where we were going but needing to make the journey nonetheless.

With the sun beating down on us, Bella gave herself to me and I did the same to her. We were joined now, our fates twisted together, existing only within the parameters of each other. She was mine and I was hers and that was how it would always be.

The fire spread, consuming me, and I surrendered myself to it.

**Please let me know what you think about this chapter - soothe my nerves :P Tell me how you feel, all your most secret thoughts and emotions. You can trust me... mwahahaha *evil eyebrows***


	31. No Heroes

**OK, first things first: I'M SORRY!! **

**I am fully aware that it's been three loooong weeks since I last updated, and I was getting more agitated by the day. The truth is that it's been a pretty stressful time, with one thing and another, the biggest of which is that my Grandad died a week ago. This means dealing with funeral plans, etc., as well as the fact that I haven't always felt capable of or inclined to writing. It's still a bit difficult now, so you'll have to be patient, but the good news is that I've managed to churn out another chapter!**

**So, apologies over, I just need to credit a couple of people.**

**1. Hopeful Wager for her help with the historical aspects of this chapter. I turned to her in dire straits and she didn't let me down :)**

**2. EJ Santry for checking I was alive and telling me that it was Memorial Day over the pond on Monday for remembering veterans and casualties of war. She made the very pertinent suggestion that I should update on that day, but unfortunately I wasn't ready with the chapter then, so you'll just have to settle for it now. But we're done with apologising so I won't say sorry :P**

**3. Always and forever, Cullenista for beta-ing for me with extraordinary patience. I'm very stubborn, you see, and don't always listen to her :S She hasn't given up on me yet, though, so I'm very grateful.**

* * *

No Heroes

**BPOV**

I stood on the green outside the town hall with Edward, his hands surrounding mine as we skulked behind the old oak. I smiled bashfully as he gazed intensely down at me, his jade eyes twinkling as they tried to hold mine.

"Bella," he whispered, and I looked up slowly, seeing how his face was alight against the backdrop of the vibrant leafy canopy. "You have straw in your hair."

I blushed, feeling my cheeks heat, and quivered slightly under his touch as he reached up and pulled a stalk from my tangled locks. I bit my lip and he smiled at me, my embarrassment melting away as it touched his confident aura.

His eyes drifted meaningfully over my uniform, and I followed their trail, noticing for the first time that it was grass-stained and rumpled. He tugged on my apron playfully and I groaned. "I'm a mess!"

"On the contrary," he protested with a grin, "you've never looked more beautiful."

Stepping closer under the green awning, his hands traced lightly up my arms and over my shoulders, softly massaging my muscles. I closed my eyes for a moment, revelling in the sensation, and when I opened them again his face was half an inch from mine. I stopped breathing and he mirrored me, my heart pounding away with reckless abandon as I drank in his beauty. I could have sworn I would never get tired of just looking at his face.

Tantalisingly slowly, he moved closer, exhaling lightly so his breath swept over my face. I began to feel lightheaded, clutching onto his strong arms for support. His lips turned up slightly at the corners just before they touched mine, the pressure feather-light, barely brushing mine as he kissed me. The green started to sway before my eyes and I clutched myself closer to him, pressing our mouths harder together.

He smiled again and pulled back, glancing around him pointedly. "I don't think this is the place, Bella."

He was right, of course, but that didn't stop me from cursing him for pulling away so soon. He noticed my crestfallen expression and chuckled softly, catching my chin between his finger and thumb. "Given the afternoon we've had, do you really still believe that I don't want you?"

"No," I murmured in reply, losing my train of thought as I stared at his eyes that almost seemed alive with joy. "No, I believe that you want me. I don't think I'll ever understand why, but I believe you."

"Good," was his whispered reply before he touched his lips to my forehead, my cheek and finally the tip of my nose. "I do want you. Forever."

"Forever's a long time," I warned him, pulling back slightly to gauge his reaction.

"Not long enough." He pulled me into his arms and crushed his lips to mine for the briefest second, our bodies fusing once again as they had in the cornfield. All too quickly, he set me down again and stepped back, just keeping hold of my hand. "I'll see you soon?"

"Of course," I replied, running my thumb over the back of his hand, rough and calloused from hard living and operating artillery. "When do you go back to Amiens?"

"It can't be more than a day or two now." He seemed to be pondering the question. "I'm actually surprised they've kept us this long. I wonder if they need us especially rested for an offensive?"

His words sent a cold wave lapping at my heart, filling me with dread. Everyday I dealt with men who had been seriously injured going over the top, and they were the lucky ones. Everybody knew about the hundreds of nameless dead who were buried in mass war graves, but nobody talked about them. I only hoped that sort of news would never make it home.

"I'm sure that's not it," I reassured him, although I was feeling far from confident myself. "They probably just have plenty of troops right now and decided to let you have the time off."

Even as I said it I knew it wasn't true; they always needed more men as the death toll rose daily. I didn't want to think about what they might be planning to do with our soldiers in the coming months.

"Bella, I'll be fine," Edward told me, squeezing my hand comfortingly. "You know I will. I'm tough; I can look after myself."

"I know."

"Besides, I promised you I'd come home, remember?"

"Of course I remember," I smiled, edging closer to him again. "You also promised to get me a ring," I added, waggling my left hand in front of him. "I fully intend to hold you to both those promises."

He smiled widely and grabbed my left hand, brushing it softly with his lips. "You can have whatever you want. Just be mine and I'll give you anything."

"That's a very rash promise. You're going to regret that in a few years."

"I really hope so," he murmured, his eyes dancing.

We just looked at each other for a minute before I stepped backwards with a sigh. "I need to go inside now. Get cleaned up."

"I love you, Bella," he told me earnestly, and I nodded and smiled.

"I know. I love you, too."

He watched me from under the oak tree as I walked away, then turned and headed back to the bicycle that would take him to Allonville; I pushed open the door to the house where we all lived and cautiously scanned the hall for Sister Martin. Seeing that the coast was clear, I raced up the stairs, light-hearted and buoyant, feeling as if I might just overflow with joy.

I burst through the door to the room I shared with many of the other girls and saw Angela and Marie sitting on one of the beds, talking as they faced each other. I stopped in my tracks, my breathing quicker than normal and my cheeks flushed.

They both looked up, taking in my dishevelled appearance and the way my face was glowing, and Angela's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Bella, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I assured her airily, not meeting her gaze as I tried to suppress the adrenaline-induced high overtaking me.

"Where have you been?" she pressed, not satisfied with my flippancy. "You've been gone a long time."

I blushed, feeling the heat pool in my cheeks, and her suspicion deepened. "I was with Edward," I finally got out, and she nodded, unsurprised.

"Anything we should know?" she asked, sensing that there was slightly more to it than that as her eyes raked over me appraisingly.

I hesitated, unsure whether I should share my news, but then it burst out of me before I could stop it. "He asked me to marry him!" I blurted out, dizzy with happiness. "We're engaged!"

I got a brief flash of Angela's shocked and Marie's dismayed expressions before they were on their feet, wide smiles adorning on both their faces. "Congratulations, Bella!" Angela cried, holding out her arms and ushering me closer. Taking both my hands, her face open and sincere, she said in her soft accent, "I'm so happy for you."

"Congratulations, Bella," a quieter voice came from behind her, and I looked around Angela to see Marie's slightly forced beam.

"Thank you, Marie," I replied, just as subdued, and we looked at each other for a moment before she dipped her head, breaking eye contact with me.

Angela quickly recaptured my attention, celebrating with me, so I barely noticed Marie slinking out of the door, her head bowed and eyes averted. My heart sank, knowing that she must be hurting right now, but I focused instead on the annoyance that she was ruining a special day for me. Edward had never been hers, I reasoned, so she shouldn't feel like she'd lost anything.

Angela dragged me to sit down on the bed, the springs bouncing and squeaking slightly, and fixed on me one of her most piercing looks. "What happened, Bella? Where did the two of you go?"

I shrugged, fingering the cross that hung around my neck. "We went for a walk and ended up in a field somewhere. The details elude me."

She smiled indulgently at my selective memory, brushing at the dust and dirt that coated my uniform. "So I take it you stopped there for a while?"

"Yes. We talked and then he asked me to marry him."

"Did he have a ring?" she asked interestedly.

"Angela," I replied, rolling my eyes, "we're at war! He's been fighting since the winter. Of course he didn't have a ring! It was more – spontaneous than that."

"A ring would have been nice," she sighed, but I shrugged the comment off.

"I don't need a ring. Besides, no piece of jewellery could mark me as his so effectively as what we've been through together. It just seems – unnecessary."

She smiled again, patting my hand sweetly. "You will be very happy with him, I know it."

"I know it, too," I murmured.

We shared a quiet moment, each of us lost in thought, before Angela stood up and tugged gently on my hand. "Come on, Bella, we need to clean you up before Sister Martin catches sight of you. You know she would assume you'd been up to something much less innocent!"

I felt the blush sweep over my cheeks and ducked my head, beginning to untie my apron. Suddenly, Angela's piercing stare was on me again, scrutinising my expression. "Bella, why are you blushing?"

I just bit my lip and shook my head, turning away from her to continue undressing. "Bella?" she warned, her voice lower and with a hard edge, but I wouldn't look at her. Sighing, she walked round me to look straight into my eyes, silently cautioning me not to lie. "Tell me you didn't."

"I –"

"Oh, Bella!" she groaned. "What were you thinking?"

"I don't know!" I immediately reacted defensively, my voice rising in volume a little. "I wasn't thinking!"

"Evidently!" she retorted, sitting down heavily on the bed. "Bella, I hope you knew what you were doing."

"Of course I did!" I protested. "I love Edward and I'm going to marry him."

"I know, Bella, but the war isn't over yet. Anything could happen before then!"

"What are you saying?" I asked, panic seeping into my voice. "What could happen?"

"I don't know, Bella. Edward could get hurt or –"

"Why would you say that?" I forced out, breathing quickly. "What makes you think he's going to get hurt?" Images began flashing before my eyes of Edward being hit by a sniper or, covered in blood, writhing in pain on the ground. The room around me started to spin slightly, but before I could hurt myself in any way, Angela pulled me to the bed and sat me down.

"Bella!" she called, shaking me a little as she tried to bring me out of my panicked state. "Bella, can you hear me?"

I managed to nod, and she looked a little relieved as she went on, "I don't think he's going to get hurt. He's a clever man and a good soldier so I'm sure he'll be fine. My point was just that you can't act like you're already married; that kind of behaviour will only get you in trouble."

"I know," I replied weakly. "I should be more careful. I just lose my head when I'm around him!"

"I understand." A far-off smile shaped her lips. "I know what it's like to be swept away by someone."

"Ben?" I asked and she nodded. "How's it going with him?"

"He's so sweet," she told me, "and so kind. My mother liked him, you know. She told me that he was a good man, that I shouldn't let him go."

"So that's why you came here?" I wondered out loud, wrapping my finger around the thin silver chain that lay under my collar.

"It's part of it," she confessed. "My mother's always given me good advice. It just seemed like the right thing to do."

"I know what you mean," I whispered and we shared a smile full of understanding, recognising our own lives reflected in the other's eyes. Angela was a good person, I knew, and I realised that it must be hard for her to have left her family to follow a man who was destined to fight. I hoped that Marie and I could help her and be her friends, and that the three of us would be there for each other.

"I'll help you find a job," I told her, and she smiled gratefully.

"Thank you. I think the bakery might be convinced to take me on with just the right amount of persuasion." We both laughed.

Angela left to go and talk to one of the other girls, and I changed into a fresh outfit, putting the grass stained uniform in a basin of cold water to soak. As I was brushing the last of the field out of my hair, my eye stopped on a loose sheet of writing paper spilling out of my drawer.

An idea flashed into my brain and within seconds I was rifling through the dresser in search of a pen. Seating myself at the window overlooking the green, I scribbled the date at the top of the page and began to write.

_4th June 1918_

_Dearest Alice,_

_I have the best news for you and I just know that you will celebrate with me. Edward and I are engaged to be married! He asked me just this afternoon and, of course, I said yes; so all that remained was to share our good fortune with our dear family. Oh, Alice, I am so happy! I don't think you can imagine how I feel right now, but I know that I am the luckiest woman alive in the whole world. Nothing more is required to make my joy complete, except for Edward and I to come home to you all. _

_These tidings are very exciting, I know, but if you can help it, please keep them to yourself for the time being. I am certain that Edward will write soon to tell our parents of the news and I would prefer it if his letter was the first my father heard of the matter. While I have no doubt that he will be pleased for us, I expect he would prefer that his consent had been sought before we officially announced our engagement._

_Alice, dear, I wish that you could be here right now to share in our happiness. I cannot yet say when I will be able to come home, the nature of this war being so uncertain, but I wait anxiously for a letter from you. You have been like a sister to me, and now it shall be official. Keep well and be happy, for your brother and soon-to-be sister. We are thinking of you._

_Love,_

_Bella_

I blotted the page and folded it, carefully printing the address on an envelope and slipping it inside. Then, propping it up on the dresser to post later, I brushed myself down and skipped out of the room, heading towards the ward.

Pushing open the heavy door, it took a minute or two for my eyes to adjust to the dimness after the bright sunlight outside. The ward was fairly quiet with few nurses and doctors in sight; my footsteps sounded loudly as I walked across the hard floorboards.

As I crossed the length of the hall, I saw that most patients were dozing, or else staring blankly at a spot on the opposite wall. It was as I turned to wander back that I felt a pair of eyes following me and I pivoted to see Jacob smile and give me a little wave.

I walked over to him and he greeted me warmly. "Hello, Bella.'

"Jacob," I replied. "How are you this fine afternoon?"

"I'm feeling well, actually," he told me cautiously. "You seem very – cheerful this afternoon." He narrowed his eyes as he watched me.

I just laughed lightly and rolled my eyes. "Yes, Jake, I'm happy."

"Why?" Now he was really suspicious.

"Why not?" I felt light and confident, untroubled as I teased him.

"It's just that you're not normally this chirpy," he went on, causing me to roll my eyes. "You sort of look like you're glowing. Are you alright?"

"Yes, Jake, I'm fine," I assured him, deciding I might as well share my news. "I'm happy because Edward proposed."

He said nothing, his eyes which had already been narrowed squeezing to slits. "Did you say yes?"

I nodded. "Of course, Jake. You know I love him."

"So you're going to marry – him. Masen."

"Yes, Jacob." My patience was wearing a little thinner now.

"It's just that I think you could do so much better."

"Well, Jacob, I'd appreciate it if you would keep your opinions to yourself. There is nobody better for me," I snapped

He turned his head away from me and stuck out his bottom lip, sulking like a child.

"Jacob?" I said tentatively, feeling a little guilty for jumping down his throat.

He just twisted his head further in the other direction. Sighing, I walked away from his bed towards the front door, intending to get some sleep before my next shift began. Just as I reached for the door handle, a wailing followed by a deafening crash filled my ears, shaking the whole hospital. One of the windows smashed, glass raining down on the beds and patients below, and screams and bellows rose up around me.

I spun around, staring in panic at the scene before me that was quickly dissolving into chaos. Sister Martin, worry overtaking her steely composure, dashed past me and out of the front door, quickly returning with a grim look on her face. "They're bombing the town," she informed us, and I could hear the shrieks building up again from many of the younger nurses.

"We're all going to die!" one young woman wailed, but Sister Martin met this pronouncement with a frosty countenance.

"Certainly not!" she countered, outraged. "I won't have any of that sort of talk in my hospital! Nurses, please escort patients able to walk to the dugout."

Immediately, the ward became a hive of activity, nurses running around with caps askew, coaxing the walking wounded onto their feet. After a momentary stunned paralysis I began to do the same, helping the mobile patients out of bed and passing them a crutch, or offering a shoulder to lean on. In the background the thundering booms continued with the occasional near miss rattling the windows, causing more hysterical screams.

In the end, with the Sisters keeping everything moving with detached efficiency, we cleared the ward of those who could walk relatively quickly. Some seemed almost reluctant to move, which puzzled me, but most could be persuaded to relocate to the dugout. Jacob kicked up quite a fuss when I tried to help him out of bed, and I hurled abuse at him for several minutes before Katherine ran up and heaved him out. I glared after him as he hobbled away willingly with her, wondering how he could be so childish at a time like this.

The next shock for me was when we had shepherded out all those with the use of their legs and Sister Martin ordered me down into the dugout.

"What about all the other patients?" I asked, nonplussed, as I surveyed the bedridden men; she just shook her head.

"There's nothing we can do for them. They'll have to take their chances." Her tone was impersonal but it seemed to me all the colder and left me aghast.

"We can't leave them! I should stay. Just – just in case."

"Don't be ridiculous," was her stern reply. "I insist that you go down to the dugout at once, Nurse Swan. I will not lose a perfectly good nurse to a misplaced sense of duty. We've done what we can for them."

"But Sister Martin!" I called after her retreating back, but she was already holding open the door for me with steely determination.

"After you, Nurse Swan."

My heart sinking to my stomach, I led the way out to the dugout, not risking a look back at the men who I knew would be judging me for my weakness. I deplored my own actions but recognised that, on some calculated level, Sister Martin might be right. I could do more good alive than dead, and in the long run I would help more people by looking after myself than going out in a blaze of glory. It all made perfect sense, yet I didn't believe a word.

Sister Martin followed me into the dugout and closed the door behind her, set into the heavy earth. It was a fairly small space, cramped and claustrophobic, and it did little to alleviate the panic building inside me as the bombs fell around us.

Some sounded farther away and faded to distant booms, but others seemed to be falling practically on our heads. I knew that it was not possible that the blasts were as close as they sounded, else the dugout would have collapsed, but it appeared that they were surrounding us, dancing in a ring around where we sheltered. I also knew that if we were to suffer a direct hit, there would be nothing to save us, and each crash shook me to my core.

My mind fell often to thinking of Edward, wondering what he was doing and worrying that he was also under attack. It seemed unlikely that the Germans were also bombing Allonville, almost ten miles away: I knew from a patient that Fritz only had a handful of long-range guns, called Big Berthas. Yet, still, I feared that he would be recalled to the front immediately to counter-attack and beat back the enemy. Who knew how long it could be until I saw him again?

We had been in there some time, the seconds blending into one another until I was unsure whether it had been minutes or days, when an ear-splitting explosion sounded heart-stoppingly close to the dugout. Several people screamed; others stared blankly into space, seeming not to register anything about their surroundings.

I buried my head in my hands, crouched with my back against the reinforced earth wall, and sobbed quietly. I couldn't believe that I had left those men in the hospital, vulnerable and unprotected. Even if there was nothing I could do to help them, it would've been better to stay than to abandon them to whatever fate the bombs brought. Any one of them might be someone's Edward.

Suddenly I was on my feet, pushing through the knot of people to get to the door of the dugout. "Let me through!" I shouted, my voice hoarse with exhaustion and fear. "I need to get out!"

"Nurse Swan, sit back down!" Sister Martin ordered, but I ignored her.

"I need to go back! I can't leave them! I can't!"

I forced my way through the closely packed bodies, scrambling to reach the catch on the door. "Let me out!" I cried.

Before I knew it, there were two strong hands on my arms, tugging me away from the door. "No!" I bellowed, struggling and writhing to get free, but the fingers held me tight. "Please!" I sobbed as I was pulled to the other side of the dugout, restrained by the same person who was now gently squeezing my shoulders.

"Bella," a husky voice whispered, and I twisted slightly to see Jacob bending over me, concern in his eyes. "Sshh, Bella. It'll be alright."

"No, it won't," I choked out as tears streamed down my cheeks. "I can't leave them there alone!"

"There's nothing you can do, Bella," he tried to reassure me, stroking my arm awkwardly.

"I can be there," I whispered as I wept.

A sweet voice on the other side of me spoke in my ear, taking my hand and rubbing it soothingly. "You know that wouldn't do any good," Angela said, helping me to sit down on the dirt floor. "Stay with us. Take care of yourself."

"I can't just leave them," I protested, but the argument was sounding feebler, even to my own ears.

Putting her mouth right against my ear, Angela whispered, "How do you think Edward would react if I told him I let you run out of the dugout in an air raid? He'd never forgive me."

"Edward," I breathed, exhaustion taking over from hysteria.

"Stay alive for him, Bella," she encouraged, rubbing my arm comfortingly.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, Edward's face floating before my eyes, waking to the rumbling thunder of bombardment over the town. It seemed like it was getting farther away but I couldn't be sure because my observations were punctuated with long periods of drowsiness. Angela stayed beside me, letting me rest my head on her shoulder, and I was grateful for her presence. The night was one of the longest of my life.

When the raid finally stopped, I had long lost track of what time it was. Sister Martin cracked open the door to the dugout and the soft light of sunrise streamed in, causing us all to blink and squint as our eyes adjusted. The next thing to assault my senses was the acrid smell of burning, and a spiral of thick black smoke snaked around the dugout. The whole group seemed to hold its breath as, one by one, we stepped out of the earthen shelter.

Standing on the once-bright, now oddly scorched grass, I inhaled deeply, tasting how the air was thick and shimmering with heat coming from behind me. A strangely rusty stench filtered through the air and I frowned in puzzlement, only identifying from the familiar lurch in my stomach that it smelt like blood.

Turning slowly, dread creeping through me, I was greeted by a sight that made my blood turn to ice and my limbs to lead. The hospital, so resplendent in the proud town hall, was a shell. Two of the four walls had collapsed and debris littered the ground all over the green. A column of smoke rose from the wreck and coiled its oily blackness into the pastel sky.

Behind the hospital and across the green, homes lay in ruins, whole streets blown to pieces. The entire town was silent, not even a bird singing above the rooftops. There was no sign of a single living creature, apart from ourselves.

We all stood, speechless and incapacitated in front of the hospital for several moments, before the first brave soul began picking their way through the rubble. I quickly followed, leaving the stunned crowd behind me, and so Sister Martin, Angela and I made our way into the old hall, now blown open.

Beds were overturned, basins shattered and supplies thrown over the wreckage. We searched desperately for anyone who might be trapped under a pile of stone or wood, but could find no signs of life. Soon, others joined our desperate search, nurses and patients alike sifting through the remains of the hospital.

At the far end, sheltered by one of the walls still standing, Sister Martin and I stumbled upon a man buried up to the neck in rubble. We scrabbled to pull him free and as I lifted his leg, he groaned quietly. I wanted to cry with relief, to proclaim that we could at least save one man.

I was about to get to work on his wounds when Sister Martin put a hand out to stop me. I glanced at her in confusion, not understanding why she was telling me not to begin work immediately. Following her gaze to the man's face, I saw his eyelids flutter as he tried to raise his head.

I helped him prop it up and called for some water, dropping it carefully onto his tongue. He rasped and tried to swallow, but ended up moaning again, almost silently this time. His eyes flickered closed and he slumped, his head lolling against my arm. I felt for a pulse but there was none. He was dead.

Standing up, I left the body to Sister Martin who, businesslike as ever, called several people to help her lay it out on the grass. I staggered almost drunkenly out of the wreckage, searching for Angela or Marie. Seeing Angela clearing a path through the old ward, I called out to her and our eyes met. "Where's Marie?" I asked.

She replied anxiously, "I don't know. I don't actually remember seeing her in the dugout."

I pushed past her and ran to each person in turn, desperately asking if they'd noticed her anywhere. Nobody could remember seeing her since before the air raid.

Somehow I found the strength to keep moving, to keep searching for her. The small cottage where we'd been lodged had also been decimated and, tearing my hands on the sharp stone, I succeeded in shifting some of the mounds of brick and earth.

My hand touched something soft and I worked faster, clearing a space between the tons of stone. Getting a better grasp on the soft thing, I pulled and held up my trophy. It was a shoe, and beneath it was a foot.

Dropping it like it was on fire, I staggered back from the house and retched, emptying the meagre contents of my stomach onto the upturned earth. I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Angela leading the group that was hurrying towards the pile of wreckage.

"Marie! She's dead!" I gasped, gesturing wildly at the destroyed cottage, and she shook me uncomprehendingly. "This is all my fault!" I roared, clutching at Angela as she peered over my shoulder at the heap of rubble being removed from the body.

"No, Bella, of course it isn't!" she told me, looking lost and distraught.

"It is! This is my fault!" I repeated, sinking to my knees, a desperate Angela crouching with me. "She was upset because of me so she didn't come with us down to the dugout. She died because of me!"

A sob choked out of me, and Angela's denials fell on deaf ears. This was all my fault, and I knew it. What had I done? _What had I done?_

* * *

**That is a pretty action-packed chapter so I'm wondering how we're feeling about it. Good? Shocked to your very core? Hit the button and let me know.**

**Some people may remember that BITTENEV wrote a recommendation for G&R over on TLYDF a while back, and I'm doing a follow-up interview for her at the moment. It should be up soon, if I can get my act together and finish it, so keep your eyes peeled if you want to see me rabbit on about writing for a few encyclopaedias. No, wait, don't leave! It will be great, I promise!**

**I will try to get back to writing soon, but it's a really busy time of year and a bit of a difficult period for my family. I hope you all understand :)**

**Thanks for reading!**


	32. The End

**Bon soir, mes amies! **

**After the action-packed Chapter 31, a nice, calm chapter this time. **

**Haha, only kidding! **

**OK, apologies for the weirdness - I am just a teensy bit hyper. Nothing major, but if you were here it would be noticeable. I promise I am stone cold sober, though, so no drunken ramblings tonight. STONE COLD. The fact that I wrote some of it at 3am last Saturday shouldn't affect it at all. Come to think of it, the tiredness is starting to catch up with me again. Perhaps sleep wouldn't be a bad thing...**

**Anywaaay, for those of you who thought Edward was dead after the last chappie, this one is in his POV so put your fears to rest. Read, ruminate, review. Hmm, that could be my new mantra. READ, RUMINATE, REVIEW, READ, RUMINATE, REVIEW, READ, RUMINATE, REVIEW. It has a sort of ring to it, don't you think? Well, enough of my crazy and on to a whole different sort :)**

* * *

The End

**EPOV**

"Just tell me, alright? If you _had_ to, would you rather sleep with Hélène from the grocer's or Jeannine, the barmaid?"

"I'm not answering that!" I protested, rolling onto my back and away from Emmett, who immediately sulked.

"I'm just saying, if you had to sleep with one of them –"

"Emmett," I growled.

"It's a legitimate question!"

"Hélène," Ben answered from behind me, flopping down next to us on the straw of the barn.

My head swivelled to look at him as I replied in shock, "What about Angela?"

He shrugged casually. "I didn't say I'd actually sleep with her, just that she's not bad looking."

Emmett shook his head incredulously. "You've got it all wrong. Jeannine every time! She's got those great legs."

"One of them is wooden," Ben retorted and I bit back a snigger.

"You can hardly tell!" Emmett snapped in response, and I couldn't hold back my laughter.

I was picturing Emmett drooling over some girl as she dragged her leg around the tavern when Jim jogged into the barn, telling us, "Commander wants us all lined up outside. Get a move on."

We sprung up from the bales and followed him out into the courtyard, curiosity warring with force of habit as we stood to attention before our commanding officer. Our regiment quickly assembled, watching as he paced before us, uniform brushed and neat compared to ours, which were rumpled, if essentially clean.

"Men," he began, turning to face us, feet apart and hands behind his back. "This afternoon, we return to Amiens. You are all rested and ready to face whatever the enemy can throw at us, so I expect smart uniforms and brisk marching. We leave at sixteen hundred hours; you can have the morning free but I expect you all back here by fifteen hundred hours. Do I make myself clear?" he barked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Don't be late."

After he strode off, I glanced up to the heavens, noticing the way the grey clouds clustered in the overcast sky, and wondered fleetingly whether rain was due. That could make time alone with Bella more difficult, as Sister Martin would undoubtedly scalp me if I brought her back soaked to the skin. I wished that we had somewhere we could go that was ours, where we could be together without chaperones and nosy comrades breathing down our necks. The things I could do to her –

I broke off that train of thought, recognising that it was dangerous territory, and turned back to Ben and Emmett, pondering aloud, "I suppose I'll go to Corbie, then. Take this last chance to see Bella."

Jim was walking past us at that moment and stopped to punch my shoulder, saying, "I wouldn't go there, mate. Boche strafed it yesterday and the whole place's destroyed."

As he walked away, I felt ice seep through my veins as the hard realisation hit that Corbie had come under German shellfire. _The whole place's destroyed._ I could feel the colour drain from my face as I considered the possibility that Bella had somehow become caught up in the air raid and was hurt or worse –

I stopped myself, twisting my head to see that Ben had also gone very still and quiet. My voice came out strangled as I croaked, "We have to get to Corbie," and he just nodded mutely.

As I spoke, a trap rattled through the courtyard and, seizing the opportunity, I raced to intercept it and ask the driver where he was headed. The man holding the reigns, a surly farmhand who spoke only broken English, informed me that he was going to a small village just past Corbie, and I begged a lift from him in desperation.

He cast a bad-tempered look at the dark sky, and muttered something under his breath that I doubtless wouldn't have understood even if I could hear it. I put a pleading expression on my face, taking a leaf out of Bella's book, and Ben chipped in with, "Nous vous en prions!" the man sighed and jerked his thumb towards the cart, turning his head away as we hastily jumped into the back amid the boxes of produce.

The trap jolted on its way, making agonisingly slow progress through the countryside, the narrow lanes seeming to stretch on forever as I ached to be in Corbie. The ache steadily became a burning need until I almost felt like throwing myself from the cart and running the rest of the way. Ben put a restraining hand on my forearm, his face still blank and expressionless, and I settled restlessly back onto the wooden boxes.

The atmosphere was thick and warm, cocooned by the dense clouds above, and it settled uncomfortably heavily on my skin. We almost had to push through the viscid air as it clung to us, its sticky tendrils stretching but refusing to let us go. The cart rattled slowly down the dirt track as the horses puffed through the mugginess. The weather only added to my unease, and I shifted agitatedly against the splintered wooden crates.

Eventually, after the longest hour of my life, the driver grunted to indicate that we were passing Corbie and this was our stop. He barely left the trap stationary for long enough for us to climb down, and went on his way before we could offer a word of thanks. That was the least of our worries, however, as we looked at the gut-wrenching scene before us, tall columns of inky black smoke rising from the wreckage of the once-picturesque town.

The acrid smell of explosives was one of the first things I noticed and my stomach turned over. Panic mounting in my chest, we picked a way through the rubble littering the medieval streets, and headed towards the hospital. When we rounded a corner and saw the village green before us, I swear my heart actually stopped beating.

Mountains of bricks and blackened stone lay across the grass, the town hall blown to pieces and the neighbouring houses decimated. Only two walls of the hospital remained, the others having collapsed into the room, doubtless killing anyone unfortunate enough to have been in their way.

My eyes immediately scanned the now open space for Bella, praying fervently that she was, by some miracle, unharmed. Figures milled around the ruins, some attempting to clear a pathway while others seemed shocked and only staggered around dazedly. I peered more closely, my heart alternately racing and stopping so that it beat erratically, causing my head to swim slightly.

Suddenly, Ben shouted, "Angela!" and sprinted towards her, wrapping his arms tight around her waist and pulling her close. My heart soared for a moment, assuming Bella must be with her, but swiftly plunged to my stomach when I saw she was alone.

"Angela," I asked her, my voice sounding strained to my ears, "where's Bella?"

She paused for a moment and I immediately feared the worst, wondering how I was even remaining standing, when she turned and pointed to a figure in the distance. I squinted and, as the light caught her differently, made out Bella's profile hidden behind the mounds of rubble.

My heart lifted in my chest and, with limbs weak from relief, I ran towards her as fast as I could. When I got near enough, I could see that she had been crying, her face slightly red and streaked with grime, and that her clothes were torn and filthy.

"Bella!" I called, my voice bolstered by my absolute need to be near her and see for myself that she was alright, and she raised her head to meet my eyes.

"Edward!" she cried in response, pushing herself up from her crouched position and running towards me, tripping and throwing herself into my arms. I caught her and held her close, feeling her body shake as she cried. "You're alright!" she sobbed into my chest. "Thank God!"

_Thank God _I'm_ alright?_ I puzzled, but said nothing, choosing just to rock her and whisper soothingly in her ear. "It's alright, Bella, I'm here. You're safe and everything's alright."

She lifted her tear-stained face to look at me, her eyes deep and mournful, and hiccoughed, "Oh, Edward, you don't know! It's Marie! She's dead!"

My eyes widened in shock and sadness, my grip instinctively tightening around Bella. "How did this happen? Why wasn't she with you?"

At this, incomprehensibly to me, Bella broke down, clutching at my shirt and howling uncontrollably. I rubbed her back and wrapped her tightly in my arms, burying my face in her hair which smelt uncomfortably of ash. She cried for some minutes, her breathing becoming more laboured as she sobbed, and I just held her mutely until she calmed a little.

All I could mutter as she sniffed was, "I'm so glad you're not hurt. I imagined – I'm just so glad you're alright."

I placed a kiss on her grimy forehead, wiping away the streaky tears on her face. "You're not hurt, are you?" I asked anxiously, holding her away from me slightly to inspect her. Her skirt and blouse were ripped in places and covered in dust and a little blood, but she did not seem to have any wounds of her own. "Thank God," I breathed to myself as I pulled her back into my arms.

We stood like this for several minutes, neither of us ready to move from the safe haven that was the other's arms, but eventually the clatter and clamour of the people around us broke into our bubble. "I should probably help clear up," Bella whispered, her voice weak from exhaustion and emotion, and I reluctantly let her shuffle back an inch. "Do you want to stay and help?"

I jumped at the chance to stay with her, deciding that now was not the moment to mention that I was going back to the front today. We joined the small party of workers, shifting piles of stone from the old town hall that now lay shattered at our feet, clearing a path so that the nurses could rescue as many of their medical supplies as possible.

Boxes of bandages and syringes came out of the collapsed building, miraculously unharmed, as did a couple of kidney dishes and an entire operating table. Occasionally I would stumble across a scrap of clothing or bloodstained patch of dirt, but I made sure to hide it from Bella as best I could. I knew I couldn't really protect her from the horrors of shelling, but I also realised that she was extremely fragile and wanted to help her in any way I could.

We were combing through a heap of blackened metal and stone, still slightly hot to the touch, when a voice called Bella's name and we both turned to see Sister Walker hurrying towards us.

"Nurse Swan!" she hailed, waving a little piece of paper in the air. When she reached us, she handed the paper to Bella, gasping, "A telegram for you!"

Bella looked astounded and I, too, had to marvel that any communications system was still functioning after the way the town had been destroyed. Sister Walker smiled at Bella and hurried away, and she turned to me with a curious expression on her face. "Usually I would be petrified," she confessed with a smile, "getting a telegram, but you're here now –"

She stepped forward and took my hand, as if needing solid proof that I was not just a figment of her imagination, and I reassured her, "I'm here. Everything's alright."

She nodded and turned her attention to the paper in her hand, unfurling it and reading it with an expressionless face. "It's from your father," she told me, and I cocked my head in curiosity.

I waited for a reaction but none came; she just stared at the paper long after she must have finished reading. I watched her face carefully, concerned about what she had just been told. "Bella?"

Suddenly I saw she was shaking and, panic seeping into my voice as I asked, "Bella? What is it?"

Wordlessly, she handed me the telegram and leant against my chest, still shaking but not making a sound. Hastily, I glanced down at the paper and saw the words printed there.

_Charlie taken ill. Come home ASAP. Edward Masen_

My heart sank and I wrapped my free arm tightly around her small body, still shaking like a leaf. "Oh, Bella," I sighed, dismay in my voice. She didn't acknowledge me, just continued quivering wordlessly for a few minutes, nestling into me as if she wished she could hide from the world.

It was a while before she regained her speech, and the words were so faint that I had to strain my ears to catch them. "I have to go home," she whispered, the shaking having subsided a little. "I've got to leave. Now."

She pulled away and started walking backwards, shaking her head a little. "I have to pack," she muttered, looking slightly crazed. "What time are the trains?"

"I think there's one at midday," I told her, and she nodded vaguely.

"Good. Midday. Good. I have to pack."

I caught her as she began to head towards where the nurses' house had once been, spinning her and holding her by the shoulders. "Bella, the house is destroyed," I told her gently, and her eyes grew wide though her face remained unnervingly blank.

"Oh, God!" she replied, her voice getting more shrill by the second. "There's nothing _to_ pack! There's nothing left!"

"Sshh, Bella," I murmured, taking her in my arms and soothing her as best I could.

Her voice was still hysterical, however, as she went on, "I have nothing left! No money, nothing!"

I hugged her gently and reached into my pocket, pulling out my wallet with my wages inside. "I can help you, Bella, don't worry."

"My letter!" she suddenly shrieked, making me jump because she screamed in my ear.

"What letter?" I was confused now.

"I wrote Alice a letter. It was in the house, on my dresser! Now it's gone!"

My bewilderment only increased faced with her distress, and all I could do was rub her shoulders calmingly. "What's so special about that letter, Bella?"

She paused, her eyes glued to the ground as she whispered, "I wrote to tell her we were engaged."

My heart jumped in my chest, just hearing those words come out of her mouth, and a reflexive smile spread over my face. I hid it from her quickly, though, pulling her into a hug so she couldn't see my grinning face. "Why don't you tell her yourself? You'll be in Forks sooner than a letter would be."

She nodded and mumbled something that I didn't catch, and I placed a soft kiss on her neck. "You'll have to tell me all about Alice and my family, alright? I want to hear everything, however small. You're my link to home. Will you do that for me?"

She nodded mutely and whispered, "I promise."

Chuckling darkly, standing knee-deep in rubble from the shelling, I said, "We're racking up quite a list of promises between the two of us, you know, Bella. I was expecting to have kept at least one of mine by the time you went home."

She looked up at me, shock being overtaken by curiosity as the dominant expression on her face. "Which one's that?"

"I wanted you to have your ring," I told her tenderly, raising her scratched and filthy hand to my lips and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. She shivered slightly at my touch, and I smiled at the thought that I could still affect her, even when the world was collapsing around us.

"I suppose it's for the best," she mused in reply, blushing delicately when I curved my palm to her cheek and brushed my thumb against her skin.

"Why's that?"

"Well, I'm not sure how well my father would take the news, especially in his already frail state." Her face clouded over and she bit her lip, setting her jaw as she fought for control.

"Oh, Bella," I murmured again, wiping away one shaky tear that slid down her cheek. "Your father will get well, I'm sure of it."

She acted as if she had not heard me, pressing, "You will write to him, won't you? When he's strong enough, you will write and ask his permission for us to marry? I think it would be better coming from you."

"I will. One more promise to add to my growing file. I would promise you anything, Bella."

"You're a fool," she snapped, but she smiled impishly so I knew she didn't mean it. I pulled her close and tried to memorise the sensation of her body moulding to mine. We stayed wrapped up in each other until a loud crash from the crumbling building broke us out of our reverie.

Glancing at my watch over her shoulder, I noticed that it was already eleven thirty. "Bella, if you want to catch that train, we should probably leave soon," I told her, and she nodded and stepped out of my embrace.

"Alright. I just need to talk to Angela and Sister Martin, and then I'll be ready."

She turned and walked away from me, and I watched her go for a moment with consternation. I knew that she needed to go to Forks, to be with her father and to take care of him, but I was loath to let her out of my sight. Glancing around me, however, I was glad that she would be getting away from the danger and heartbreak of war, back to the place I would always call home.

While I waited for her to be ready, I got back to clearing away some of the rubble, sorting it into piles and sometimes just pushing it away with brute strength. My uniform quickly became coated in dust and ash, and I grimaced as I pictured the commander's face when he next saw me. Deciding it couldn't be helped, I threw myself into the work, spotting Ben doing the same out of the corner of my eye.

A quiet voice from behind me interrupted my work, and I straightened up when I heard Angela say, "Edward?"

She stood before me, as ragged and exhausted as Bella had looked when I first found her, but missing the telltale streaks from her tears. I stepped closer to her, lowering my voice as I tried to express the thoughts swirling around my head. "Angela, I am so relieved that you and Bella are alright. Ben and I feared the worst."

She shook her head, pursing her lips as she scanned the destruction for Bella, who was nowhere to be seen. "Take care of her, Edward," she told me seriously, and I nodded immediately. "I was so afraid for her last night. She had to be restrained from running back out to the bombs to stay with the patients. The ones we couldn't move," she finished awkwardly, but I didn't bat an eyelid even as she told me that the immobile were effectively left to die. I had seen much worse.

However, my heart almost stopped for a moment as I imagined Bella, wracked with guilt and compassion, struggling to run straight into the air raid. I sent up a silent prayer that she had been unsuccessful before turning back to Angela, feeling that my face had lost much of its colour. "Thank you for stopping her. I don't know what I would have done if she – Just thank you."

She smiled thinly and patted my arm in a comforting gesture. "She's alright, Edward. Emotionally damaged, perhaps, but determined and stronger than you realise. She can look after herself. It's just that she feels so deeply for others –"

"I know," I muttered, shaking my head in surrender. "She always has. I've never met someone with so much love as Bella."

"She'll never love anyone as she loves you, though, Edward," Angela told me, and my answering smile was instant and genuine.

"I know that, too."

Bella cleared her throat softly behind me, and I turned to see her standing only a few feet away. She had changed into fresh, if slightly loose fitting clothes and washed her face, a bag in one hand and neat hat on her head.

"Where did you get the things from?" I asked amazedly, and she gave a small smile.

"A gift from a kind girl in the village. She's helping us shift the bricks." She peered around my back and waved to a slightly plump girl with wavy ginger hair, whose face dimpled into a warm smile as she waved back.

"That's very kind," I remarked, and Bella nodded fervently.

"All the people here have been so good to us."

Glancing at my watch again, I saw that we had almost no time to lose, so the two of us hurried to the tiny station in Corbie.

"Take the train to Amiens, alright?" I told her, once I had purchased her ticket. "Then take the next train you can to Brest. From there, you'll find a ship to take you home."

I handed her almost the entire contents of my wallet, hoping it would be enough to see her safe passage, and led her to the platform where the train was just pulling in. It seemed we had timed it perfectly.

She smiled at me and turned to climb onto the train, but I shot out a restraining hand and stopped her. "Listen, Bella, I never thought I'd say this, but hurry back, won't you?"

A mischievous, if weak, smile spread across her face and she raised her eyebrows at me. "You mean, back here to the frontline which is dangerous and no place for a delicate woman like me?"

I laughed and kissed her gently. "Yes, that is exactly what I mean."

She nodded and detached herself from my arms, jumping onto the train that was preparing to move off. "I will, I promise."

"I'll be waiting," I told her, and she smiled faintly.

"I hope so. I love you."

"I love you, too," I whispered, just as the whistle blew. I don't think she heard me, but the tears that gathered at the corner of her eyes told me she had understood nonetheless.

The train pulled away, chugging out of the station, the smoke billowing around me as I watched it go. Bella waved once more from the window and I raised my hand in a gesture of farewell, before she disappeared from my sight. The train picked up speed, the slow chugging becoming a clatter, then a roar as the dark smoke blended with the grey sky. Before I knew it, she was gone.

I turned from the platform and walked out of the station, the pires of destruction beckoning me from all sides. My heart was heavy as I surveyed the town, razed to the ground, only a few clusters of houses remaining undamaged. The whole landscape seemed empty, knowing that Bella wasn't there, but I pushed those thoughts aside. I couldn't be selfish and keep her all to myself, tempting as it might be, when her family at home needed her. I knew I couldn't always be her first priority, even as the idea filled me with joy.

One day, I knew I that when she came home it would be to me, and that was enough to sustain me. I would save and buy us a house, a small place which we could call our own. Maybe we would start a family, have a son or a daughter. My head spun at the thought, but it was a happy wooziness.

I made my way back over to the shell of the hospital, spotting Ben and calling out to him. He turned and greeted me, and I told him what had happened with Bella. He clapped a hand on my back, conveying without words that he was sorry, but that it would be alright. I nodded, and bent down to continue shifting the debris, the pair of us working as a seamless team.

I didn't have to look up to see that there was a mountain ahead of us, but with every ragged stone I cleared, my heart lightened just a little. We would get there, I was sure, and Bella would be back before I knew it.

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The End... dun dun duuunnnn! And before anybody asks, no, this is not the end of the story. I had to say it now - there's always one. I hope you read and ruminated, etc, and you know what comes next. Come on, don't make me chant it again. You know I'll do it.**

**R - **

**RE - **

**REV - **

**I could keep this up but I trust you guys got the message, subtle as it was :P Pleeeeaaassseee talk to me - I get lonely, you know - and I will shower you with love and annoying PMs for your efforts. Right, vamosrafa07? Haha, she's been my victim tonight, and I appreciate her patience. **

**Thank you, Cullenista, for your suggestions and editing! I hope you approve.**

**BTW, people, Bellies are now accepting nominations until the 24th June. I'm hopping over there to nominate now and I hope you will do the same. The more people get involved, the better!**


	33. Together

**Hi everyone! I'm SORRY it's been longer than usual since I've updated, but I'm here now so I'm hoping we could just forget all that silly stuff and *gulp* start again? Pwease? Sigh.**

**Exciting news: I've been nominated in a few categories for the Indie TwiFic Awards! Yes, yes, I know, so have about 200 other authors in the fandom, but still! The categories _Guns and Roses_ are nominated in are BEST AU/AH WIP, BEST ORIGINAL CHARACTER (why? not sure), MOST ORIGINAL STORY LINE and MOST ROMANTIC MOMENT !! I would so appreciate a couple of votes from you guys and thank you to anyone who may have nominated this story :)**

**Thanks also to Cullenista for talking through plot niggles with me, and for her excellent-as-ever editing work. I would actually become a nervous wreck without her, no kidding. **

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Together

**BPOV**

The long crossing from Brest to Southampton, and then on to New Jersey was more wearying than I remembered from the first time I had done it, and my impatience to be home and with my father meant that I hardly rested on the ship nor the train across the country. The journey seemed to take forever and I received no more wires, no good news or otherwise, so I started to fear the worst.

I sent ahead to let Mr Masen know on which train I would be arriving in Forks, and he was there to meet me on the platform when we pulled into the station, so familiar and yet seeming to be from so long ago. The station was smaller than I remembered it, but the other features were unchanged: the broken bench had not been replaced, and thick forest still flourished just outside the station walls.

Mr Masen himself appeared like a character from a story, vaguely amusing and diverting, but not truly _real_. He seemed flat, one-dimensional to my eye which had seen so much more then he, and I struggled to find his place in the new world order. It was impossible to me that he could still be quietly walking the streets of Forks, still be operating in that narrow sphere that I had left so many months ago. How could it be that I had changed and yet time had left him untouched?

It was almost surreal, walking through the streets of the town I still knew as well as the back of my hand, and yet thinking the entire time of the other world that existed just across the sea. For the first time, I began to understand what it had been like for Edward when he'd been back here on leave in February; I no longer felt like I truly fit in this small town setting, being changed and shaped as I was.

Just before we turned the corner into the road on which the Masens' house sat, I reached an invisible wall in the road. When I saw the Masen house before me, saw Alice and Elizabeth, this whole situation would become so much more real. I really would be home and my father really would be ill. It was almost too much to handle, and I had to will my feet to keep moving.

Despite my fears, there were no thunderbolts or streaks of lightening as we rounded the corner. The street was exactly as I remembered it, the road shaded with a canopy of green and windows glinting in the bright sunlight. My eyes unwittingly scanned the street for Edward, half-expecting to see him waiting on the porch or ambling along the road, even though I knew he would not be there. Regardless, my heart sank when I didn't see him, and what should have been a sweet homecoming was marred by his absence.

Edward's mark, however, was etched into everything he'd seen and touched. His scent still lingered impossibly in the air; the wooden railing on the porch seemed to hold his fingerprints. I saw Edward's face reflected in that of Mr Masen's, smiling back at me with his father's mouth and the crease on his forehead. Where Edward's eyes were shining and green, however, Mr Masen's were a pale grey, and it was his mother's coppery hair, now flecked with grey, that adorned Edward's own head. Nevertheless, as I walked with Mr Masen to his house, Edward almost seemed to be at my side.

As we approached the Masens' front door, it burst open and a petite figure threw herself out, hurtling towards us with a shriek of, "Bella!"

I ran and met her halfway, laughing, "Alice!" as she flung herself at me. We hugged tightly for a moment, savouring the reunion that seemed to have been so long coming. "I've missed you," I told her, smiling broadly. She only squeezed me tighter.

"Bella, you have _no_ idea!"

Eventually, I managed to prise her off me, and the three of us went into the Masens' house, shutting out the June sunshine and sitting down in the front room. Mr Masen took my hat from me, stowing my small bag in the hallway. Alice smiled tentatively as we waited for him to return.

When we were all settled, I took a deep breath and said simply, "Tell me."

They looked at each other, then Mr Masen cleared his throat and began. "Your father fell ill a while ago."

My expression impassive, I pressed, "How long ago?"

"A month."

My head reeled. "A month? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sshh, Bella," Alice soothed, moving to sit next to me on the settee. "We didn't want to worry you unnecessarily." Holding my hand on her lap, she took over the story. "At first, it seemed like he'd just caught cold. We all thought that if he stayed in bed for a day or two, he would soon be right as rain."

"Yet he wasn't?" I whispered, and Alice shook her head.

"No. He couldn't seem to shake it off. Mother and I brought him soup and medicine and nursed him. We tried everything we could think of."

"Thank you," I murmured sincerely, but she brushed it off and continued. "He started to get worse so I sent you a letter, just a couple of days before the telegram. One night, his temperature rocketed and he became confused, sort of delirious. He was asking for you, and he couldn't hold anything down, and we got scared. That was when we wired you."

I took a deep breath and asked the all-important question: "And now?"

Alice looked at me, pity etched into her face, and slowly shook her head. "Not good, I'm afraid. He's been going downhill for a couple of weeks and he's very weak. Yesterday I got him to drink a little water, but he wouldn't take the soup. It's like his body's too feeble to fight anymore."

I gasped raggedly and dropped my face into my hands, struggling to breathe as the severity of my father's situation washed over me. It was hard to believe that only a few streets away, he was lying ill and weak, needing me so desperately, and I hadn't been here for him. I was determined to stretch my wings, fly from the nest and follow my love across the world; what had I been thinking? How could I have been so selfish?

I heard Alice starting to move towards me, but I leapt up before she could come any closer. "I need to see him," I said with a calm that belied my inner agitation. "Now."

Mr Masen and Alice nodded, eyeing me up warily, but I ignored them and strode out of the house, not stopping to collect my bag or hat. Good conduct be damned; I had no time for such formalities.

I did not have to look around to know that Alice was scuttling along behind me, perhaps having scooped up my possessions herself. I felt a twinge of guilt shoot through me, settling in my stomach and mixing with the shame and self-reproach that already sat heavily there.

When I reached my house, I pushed open the door without waiting for her to catch up and took the stairs two at a time. I hurriedly burst into my father's bedroom, not bothering to knock, and my eyes instantly caught on him as he lay motionless on the bed. Mrs Masen was standing on the other side of the room, administering to him, and when I flew in she quickly looked up, startled.

"Bella!" she exclaimed, relief sweeping over her face, hardly disguising the worry etched into her features. "Thank goodness you're here!"

She hastened round the bed to take my hand, then pull me into a hug. I leaned willingly into the maternal embrace, wishing that my own mother were here now, but contenting myself with a borrowed one. _My soon-to-be mother-in-law_ my subconscious reminded me, but I pushed the notion aside. Now was not the time for such thoughts; not with my father lying semi-conscious just in front of me.

Peeling myself away from the warm comfort of Mrs Masen's arms, I walked slowly forwards until I was standing at the side of my father's bed, looking down at his pale face and sunken cheeks as he slept fretfully. A sob choked out of me before I realised, and clapped my hand to my mouth to prevent any further cries from escaping me.

I gazed down at him for several moments, wondering how he had got so frail so quickly, how he had aged so much in just a few short months. My one hand slipping from my mouth to my breast, the other came up and I lifted my trembling fingers to stroke the hair from his forehead. He stirred slightly as I did so, and moved his head to the side.

My throat plugged with tears, I whispered, "Father," brushing my fingers down his arm to rest on his hand. He shifted restlessly and moaned quietly, his hand seeking out my fingers and closing around them. Not moving from his grasp, I reached behind me and pulled up a chair, settling myself by his bedside. "It's alright, Father," I told him soothingly. "I'm here now and I won't leave you until you're well again. I promise."

***

Some time later, my father's fingers began to loosen around mine and I slowly pulled them from his grip, moving carefully so as not to disturb his uneasy sleep. Standing up from my uncomfortable perch by the bed, I gazed down at his face, pale and drawn against the white pillow. He looked so fragile, thin and sallow; so unlike the father I had known, who had always taken care of me. Now it was my turn to look after him, and I only hoped I was strong enough.

I turned my head from the heartbreaking sight before me and tiptoed carefully from my father's room and down the stairs. The house was deserted, as I'd urged Mrs Masen to go home and get some rest, guessing that she'd slept little since she'd started tending my father.

I ghosted through the empty rooms, hardly seeing the familiar possessions that were brimming with shadows of my childhood, heading straight for the backdoor. I slid it open and stepped out onto the deck, my shoes barely making a sound on the faded wooden slats. The setting sun immediately washed me in its orange glow, softly kissing my face and hands as it crept towards the horizon.

I walked straight up to the railing that overlooked the garden and stood before it, feeling the well-worn texture beneath my weary hands. The apple tree was bathed in the gentle pink and yellow of sundown, majestic even as the darkness skulked towards it. Above, the sky was a rosy wash, the heavens blushing as the same colour stained my cheeks.

The evening was warm, the remnants of a balmy day still hanging in the air. I breathed deeply, wanting to inhale the peace that radiated from the scene, to imbue some of its calm and power. Even as twilight approached, the sun continued to bless all it could reach, not surrendering too soon and sinking prematurely below the looming horizon. The sun was strong and beautiful and full of love; it was the darkness I feared.

I sighed almost imperceptibly and closed my eyes to enjoy the last tendrils of sunlight stroking my skin. When I opened them again, the scene had hardly changed, but I noticed that the trunk of the apple tree was being swallowed by the dusk. The leaves were still ruddy with the light from the sunset, however, and they almost seemed to bloom again as the evening dawned. At that moment, it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

I was letting the scene fill me, consume me, when a soft voice from behind me cut into the silence, startling me. "Glorious, isn't it?"

I spun to see Alice sitting on my porch swing, a kind of serenity seeming to have overtaken her. She was very calm, so quiet, and at once my surprise at seeing her seeped from me. I felt my feet carrying me to her, treading silently so as not to break the spell that was woven through the garden, and sat next to her on the painted wooden swing seat. "Yes," I agreed heavily, the simple reply saying more than a dozen words.

"Doesn't it sometimes make you sad?"

I sat still, saying nothing, and Alice continued, "Knowing that he's so far away. Wondering if he even sees the same thing when he looks at the sky." She seemed to be talking to me, but her words rang with truth, reflecting the fears of her own heart. She turned to me and asked, "Is the sky different, Bella? In France?"

I looked at her face, earnest and beseeching, and then back at the bronze halo over the trees. "Different? I don't know. _I _was different," I told her honestly, meditatively.

"We've all changed, haven't we?" Alice mused, not looking at me but rather at the dwindling sunshine bathing the garden. "Even if we do all come back, it will never be the same."

She didn't seem sad but rather as if she were reflecting, stating a simple truth, so I responded just as matter-of-factly. "No, I don't think so. I don't see how it could be."

Alice sighed, her soft breath mingling with the warm evening breeze, her profile illuminated in gold and rose. "I don't care. I don't want to be a child anymore. I'm ready to grow up."

I laughed drily. "You act like you have a choice in the matter."

She smiled sadly and replied, "I do. I choose Jasper. No matter what."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her clutching a neatly folded piece of paper, the creases worn but lovingly preserved by a gentle hand. "Is that –?"

She nodded. "His latest letter."

"And?"

"And nothing. He's still a soldier; he's still in France; he's still at war."

Her voice broke on the last syllable and I reached out to clasp her hand in mine. Together we gazed out over the darkening horizon, just as the glowing disk began to dip below it.

"Edward?" she asked quietly, and I took a deep breath before answering.

"The same," I whispered in reply. Then after a moment I added, "We're engaged."

Her head snapped to face me and I saw her eyes alight and shining. "At last, Bella," she breathed and wrapped her arms around me, nestling into my body.

I rested my head on her shoulder, our arms fitting together as if we had never been separated, and certainly not for half a year. She sighed and I thought I heard her whisper, "My sister," so softly that I could have easily mistaken it for the sweet grass rustling with the breeze.

A deep love welled up inside me, not quite sadness and not quite joy, and whether my eyes were open or closed, all I could see was the dying rays of the gleaming sunlight. Then, in each other's arms, as the sun finally set over the garden and the gloaming won out, we both wept.

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**I know that wasn't the longest chapter ever but... wait for it... I have already written the next one! In a burst of inspiration, my fingers got typing and couldn't stop. It needs beta-ing and editing and proof-reading, etc. zzzz but it will be posted soonish! Don't get used to it, mind - this is a one time thing ;)**

**As the next chapter is sort of kind of almost written, I feel at liberty to give you a teaser, and will do so for everyone who reviews. Please, I love to know what you think of the rambling that pours from my crazy mind to your computer screen :P **

**Also, I have joined Twitter! Finally, I hear some of you mutter, but I like to take my time and familiarise myself with new technology. I've _almost_ mastered the turntable, and might nearly be ready to buy a cassette player. Please come and join me - I like to talk (can you tell?). My username is RosieWilde, which hopefully isn't too hard to remember :D**

**Finally, please vote in the Indie TwiFic Awards! Voting opens today (I think) and closes on the 12th July. Have a good one.**


	34. We Are The Dead

**Well, hello again, my lovelies! Two updates in one week! I am immensely proud of myself :)**

**This one is longer and very different to the last - we're back with Edward in the trenches. For those of you who've had that teaser, you know a little of what's to come. For everyone else... Read and enjoy!**

**Thank you, Cullenista, for smacking me on the knuckles for too many Britishisms :P**

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We Are The Dead

**EPOV**

"Emmett, stop cheating!" Ben growled, throwing a mock punch at the side of his head, which Emmett ducked easily.

"I'm not cheating! I'm just extraordinarily good at cards!" Emmett protested innocently.

I rolled my eyes and collected up the fans of bent and battered playing cards that were scattered across our makeshift table, just as Ben and Emmett leapt up from their seats and started wrestling in the mud. One of the chairs rocked against the rickety table and the lamp, our only source of light, wobbled precariously; I just managed to get a hand on it before it clattered to the ground.

Ignoring the scuffle at my feet, I calmly shuffled the pack and dealt again, laying out the cards on the table. I waited for them to come back to the table, but they were both too involved in flattening the other to pay much attention to our game.

Emmett and Ben were severely mismatched, the former being at least half a foot taller than the other and twice as muscled, but the fight was closer than you'd imagine. What Ben lacked in stature and brute strength, he made up for in cunning and guile and twice came close to pinning Emmett. I watched them wrestle with mild interest for some time, before calling to break them apart.

"Emmett! Ben! Guys, break it up!"

They paid no heed to my shout, Emmett trying to crush Ben in a ferocious headlock, so I sighed and turned my attention to the lamplight flickering around the dugout. We had been back at the frontline for nearly three weeks now, each day blending into the next so it was easy to lose track of time. I was diligent, however, marking off each day on a scrap of paper which I carried around in my pocket. To me, marking time was a way of keeping track of myself, of staying connected to the man I was when I was with Bella.

It was in this way that I became aware that I had turned nineteen, a few days after Bella left to return to Forks. Although I understood her choice to go, I couldn't deny that I was disappointed and a little hurt that she had forgotten my birthday. It was the first time that it had ever gone uncelebrated by her, and even though I didn't expect much in our current circumstances, it wounded me that she seemed to have forgotten altogether.

I hadn't yet written to Bella since she had left, partly as I knew she would be travelling and unable to receive my missives, and partly because my childish pride forbade me from making the first contact. She had forgotten about me, so if she wanted correspondence, she would have to write to me first. My rational head and captive heart eschewed this puerile behaviour, but wounded vanity held firm, and so I had had no contact with Bella for three long weeks.

The morning after Bella left, after we returned to the front, the rain had begun to fall and had hardly let up since. The torrents had overrun our section of the line, making mud out of what had once been firm ground, and forming rapids through the communications trenches. The whole line was awash, the cold water making it feel like it was January again, and the men were despondent and downhearted.

By the fifth day of almost constant rain, the water sat shin-deep in the trenches, seeping into the dugouts and lining the base of the bunks with stagnant filth. It even got so bad that, at one point, the telephone line that ran from our commander to headquarters cut out, fizzling and crackling as the water rendered it useless. That was the worst time; the telephone wire was our only link to the outside world, to the land of the living, and without it we were truly cut off. Truly dead men walking.

It was only in the last couple of days that the rain had begun to cease and the waters to recede. The ground was still a treacherous mire, but it had started to harden and firm up so that now it was almost possible to walk from one end of the trench to the other without sinking knee deep in mud.

Nevertheless, when Emmett and Ben finally stood up from their tussle, helping the other and slapping them on the back, their uniforms were smeared with thick sludge. I smirked as they groaned in annoyance, knowing that these uniforms would have to last them for some weeks more, and with irritated mutters they sat down at the table again, Emmett lighting up a smoke.

As if the wrestling interlude had never taken place, we took up our game once again, Emmett's lucky streak miraculously over. I was winning comfortably when our companionable gathering was broken up by a piercing shriek and the ear-splitting wail of a German shell. It sounded close, almost right overhead, and we had no time to take cover before we were thrown to the ground, our table overturned and the lamp shattered in the explosion.

There was silence for a moment, then all hell broke loose as the panicked shouts and screams of the wounded started up, underpinned by the harrowing screech of another shell heading towards the Allied trenches. I was frozen on the ground for only a few seconds before I was calling out, shouting to my friends. To my relief, my shout was answered, and the three of us began dragging ourselves through the mud, crawling to the furthest corner of the dugout, which was still standing.

The three of us holed up in the corner, sheltering as best we could in the space under the bunks, and I looked at my mates. "Are you guys alright?"

I got back mutters of the affirmative, along with a muffled curse. We settled down to wait out the raid, knowing that there was nothing else for it but to sit tight.

Shortly after the first few shells, the bombing ceased for a minute or two, and an uneasy quiet settled over the trench. I felt carried along by it, the silence seeping through me and giving me over to thought, when I was snapped out of my reflections by Emmett exclaiming, "Bloody hell!"

Annoyed, I asked, "What is it, Emmett?"

"In all the bleeding chaos I've lost my effing cigarette!"

I ignored him, turning away as best I could in the cramped space beneath the bunks. We all knew that, should we get a direct hit, the flimsy wooden frame would give no protection, but it somehow made us feel safer to have something more solid than simply air between us and the bombs.

It did not take long for the raid to pick up, and the waiting game started again. Trapped beneath the bunk in our half-destroyed dugout, the three of us fell to talking, whiling away the time with stories and jokes. Emmett, as usual, had to be the loudest of us all, almost drowning out the whine and blast of Jerry's shells, but I had to admit that his tales were a welcome distraction.

"So there I was," he told us animatedly, "completely smashed and trouser-less –" I seemed to recall he had lost them in a card game earlier in the story "– and this cabbie kept asking me where I wanted to go. Well, I told him to head towards Times Square, because I didn't know where else to say, but then suddenly I remembered that my wallet had been in my trouser pocket."

Ben was watching Emmett in raptures, hanging off his every word, and even I was chuckling as his story became wilder by the minute.

"What did you do?" Ben asked, awe-struck.

"Well, I realised I was in a bit of a fix, so when he jammed on the brakes at a stop sign, I leapt out of the back door!"

I rolled with laughter, imagining a half-naked Emmett running drunk around the streets of New York, and he grinned as he continued, "Well, I ran until I was out of sight, then I stopped to rest against a wall in this back alley, to get my bearings. I was just catching my breath when this _dog_ –"

I stopped him there, choking as laughter overtook me. "Don't tell me, Emmett! The dog –" I broke off, gasping for breath.

"Yeah, well, the dog had ideas of his own, and started getting all friendly with my leg. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to shake it off –" I doubled over laughing "– but it started growling and snarling. It was only this big!"

Emmett indicated with his hands a length of about a foot and a half, and I snorted derisively. He noticed and snapped back, "Oh, so you think you could have taken it, huh? Let me tell you, that dog was eighteen inches of terror. It was bloody homicidal!"

"Right. Of course it was, Emmett."

"It was! Anyway, so I was backed into a corner in a dark alley with this _rabid_ dog snarling at me and I was thinking, 'Pal, this is it; you're _done for_!' Then, all of a sudden –"

Emmett's story was interrupted by an ear-splitting wail followed by a boom, not a hair's breadth from the dugout next to ours. We all fell silent, listening to the cries of the men sheltering next door, and after a few moments of hearing them, I crawled to the door of our dugout to see how close the shell had been.

The night was pitch black but the trench was illuminated by little fires, marking the spots where bombs had landed. It took my eyes several seconds to adjust, but when they did I could make out a small crater carved into our section of the line, just down from our dugout. It must have been a direct hit on the third dugout along, because all that was left of that was a smouldering heap of wreckage.

The warm night was punctuated with the screams of both men and shells, and the result was a bloody cocktail of pain. I was about to go back to the relative shelter of the bunk, when a groan a few yards from me stopped me in my tracks.

I called out, "Who's there?" and got no answer.

Fearing that someone was in pain and needed my help, I stepped out into the trench, walking towards the source of the noise. "Anybody there?" I called again, but my question was only greeted by silence.

I was about to turn round and head back to the dugout, when I saw a dark shape on the ground at my feet. I crouched down, gingerly pulling at the cloth attached to it, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a hand shot up to grip my wrist.

Blinking into the darkness, I finally made out the face of a man, a wound to his head and stained with blood. When I touched him he began to moan quietly, each movement of his body seeming to cause him immense pain. I was loath to move him, not knowing if that would do more damage than good, and was agonising over the options when the man suddenly went still. I felt for his pulse but it couldn't be found; he was dead.

Sitting back on my heels, I blew out the breath I had been holding and pressed my palms to my eyes. I stood up slowly, feeling my tiredness more now than before, and looped my hands under the dead man's arms, dragging him to the side of the trench, out of the way.

I was just tucking in his legs when a shout arrested me from further down the trench, my own words thrown back at me. "Who's there?"

I froze, searching for the owner of the voice, and a soldier moved into light of a nearby fire so I could just make out the shape of his face, and the ranking on his arm: a Lance-Corporal, flanked by two other men. He indicated the corpse I had just moved, asking, "Who's that man?"

"I don't know. I just found him. He died a moment ago."

The Corporal nodded, turning his attention briskly to me. "Your name?"

"Masen," I replied smartly.

"Masen?" the Lance-Corporal repeated, and I nodded. Then he stepped forward, closer to me and further into the light, and I heard him let out a breath. "Edward?"

My head shot up at hearing my name, and I peered at the face of the man which I could now make out. "Jasper!" I exclaimed in surprise.

He strode towards me and shook my hand, smiling broadly, and soon we were clapping each other on the back and grinning. Jasper beckoned forward the other two figures, who still lurked in the shadows, and I saw that they were both younger than him, and one could not be more than seventeen years old.

He introduced us with the smile still fixed to his face, and I nodded at the man and the boy. "This is Edward Masen, a friend from back home," he told them, and where once his casual use of the word 'friend' would have rankled with me, now it brought me comfort. "Edward, these two are brothers, Pete and Charlie Duncan."

I nodded and asked Jasper, who was clearly their leader, if they'd come into our dugout for a while. He agreed and they followed me back, ducking to enter what was left of the earth shelter. When I walked inside, I saw that Ben and Emmett had lit a lamp which dimly flickered in the corner, just illuminating them as they sat against the wall.

"Edward!" Ben blurted out when he saw me. "We were about to send out a search party!"

I walked further into the dugout and nodded at the three men who had followed me in. "Lads, meet Jasper, Pete and Charlie."

Emmett leapt to his feet to shake the men's hands, and Ben raised a hand from his seat by the wall, gesturing for them to sit down. The six of us dropped down around the lantern, surveying each other curiously as we waited for someone to speak first.

When no-one did, I took the lead, asking Jasper, "Where have you come from? Why are you in this section of the line, tonight of all nights?"

"I was leading a patrol along the frontline," he explained, his voice suddenly so familiar that I wondered that I hadn't recognised it immediately, "and my commander gave me a series of messages to carry to other sections of the trench. When the shelling started, we were already too far from our unit to seek shelter there. Two of our number left us, and I don't know what happened to them. We three looked for somewhere to take cover in your part of the line."

"I ran into them just down from here," I told Emmett and Ben, "and Jasper recognised me. We know each other from back home, from Forks."

Ben turned to Jasper and enquired, "You live there?" Jasper nodded. "So you know Bella?"

Jasper broke out into a grin and replied, "I certainly do. How is that little lady?" he asked me, smiling warmly. "Alice informs me you've been seeing more of her than she has."

"She was well when I last saw her," I told him, and he smirked. "Did Alice tell you she's a nurse? She was stationed just ten miles from here."

"Convenient, eh, Edward?" Emmett chipped in with a wink. "Bella's a right little nurse. Very nice she looks in that tight little uniform, too."

"Emmett!" I chastised, smacking his arm, which he rubbed, pouting. "You've never met Bella!"

"No," he allowed, "but I've got a good imagination," he added with a wicked grin.

Disgusted, I turned back to Jasper. "Bella's alright, but she's gone back to Forks now. Her father's taken ill."

"Charlie? He's always been good to me, and he's so fond of Alice."

"Alice?" Ben asked. "That's your sister, right, Edward?"

"Yep," I replied. "Alice and Jasper are – close."

Emmett, of course, picked up on my not-so-subtle meaning and had to put in his two cents. "Close, huh? The _interesting_ sort of close, or the gooey, romantic sort?"

"Emmett!" I roared. "If I have to hear you make one more innuendo about my sister, or my fiancée, or any other woman in my life then –"

"Your fiancée?" Jasper repeated, a smile threatening to creep onto his face. "You proposed to Bella?"

I nodded, and he clapped me on the back. "Congratulations! Took you a while, but I'm glad you got there."

I bristled slightly as his jibe, but he just laughed and mock-punched my arm. "Well, it did! Alice and I kept waiting for the news, but it didn't come. We thought you'd bottled it."

I felt my jaw tighten as he went on, but Jasper seemed unfazed by my lack of co-operation. "Sorry, but it's true. I didn't mean to offend you."

I wanted to brush him off, but the joy of coming up against a little piece of home still lingered in me, so I readily forgave him. "You didn't offend me. Perhaps you're right." Then, wanting to turn the focus back onto him, I teased, "So, when are you going to ask Alice, then?"

He blushed and the five of us laughed, Pete reaching over to mess up his hair. Jasper ducked his head and kept it lowered for a couple of minutes, until the conversation had moved onto safer topics.

"So you're a Lance-Corporal," I said, stating rather than really asking, half-annoyed and half-impressed that he had been promoted after so few months of service.

"Yes." He shrugged modestly. "I suppose my commander just saw something in me that he needed. Don't ask me what."

"I've been here for years, it seems," Ben grumbled, "and I'm still a lowly Private! Some people have all the luck."

I laughed, and Emmett smirked, replying, "Ah, but Ben, you've been getting lucky recently."

I shook my head at his bawdy comment, but Ben looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Emmett's grin widened, sensing an easy prey. "Well, I just meant that, with you and _Angela_ spending so much time together, you've been getting pretty –"

_Smack! _My jaw dropped as I stared, wide-eyed at Ben, who had jumped to his feet and was now towering over Emmett, his hand raised threateningly.

"_Don't _talk about her like _that_," he warned, his voice colder than I'd ever heard it before. "She deserves better, and I won't stand for it."

"Ben!" I gasped, shocked that he had reacted so strongly to Emmett's teasing. "What's got into you?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, letting his hand fall. "I just don't like it when Emmett talks about Angela like that, that's all."

"Wow," I mouthed at Emmett, and he nodded, nursing his jaw, which was pink and blotchy.

Ben sighed and sat back down, turning to Emmett with an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry I hurt you, Emmett."

Suddenly, the hilarity of the situation became just too much for me, and a laugh escaped from my mouth. The irony of Ben apologising to Emmett for beating him up was too much for me to bear, and another quickly followed. Soon I was laughing uproariously, and after a few moments' pause, the others joined in, Emmett's booming laugh filling the dugout.

"That's alright, Ben," he assured him with a chortle, and Ben rolled his eyes.

All this time, the shells had been falling steadily from above us, getting louder and more distant as the enemy repositioned their guns. Mostly, I had been able to block them out, at least to a large extent, but now it seemed that the target had been shifted so it rested right above our dugout.

The relentless pounding, bombs landing all along our line of trench, finally started to shatter our calm façade; the six of us surrendered and clambered back under the bunk, lying side by side and listening to the deluge of shells. I tried to concentrate on other things: a memory of talking with Bella, Jasper's description of home, even Emmett's ridiculous story about a dog in an alleyway. However, nothing succeeded in diverting my mind from thinking about the shells, each one a bringer of death, dropping all along our section of the line.

I could tell that the others were suffering in the same way, for as the crashes and wails intensified, so did the atmosphere in the dugout. Breathing grew shallower and quicker, and talk stopped altogether as each man focused on fighting his own mental battle against fear.

The youngest, Charlie, cracked first and began shaking and whimpering, the tremors from his body spreading into mine. I felt the panic start to well up in me, too, claiming more of my mind with every passing minute. Soon, the boy was crying quietly and, although his older brother tried to comfort him, the boy would have none of it. He was trembling and sobbing, tears streaking down his youthful face and dripping off his chin.

Next came the screaming, the frantic cries. He begged to be spared, to go home; he begged for his mother. Pete tried in vain to quiet him, but Charlie thrashed and wailed, having pulled himself from under the bunk to the middle of the dugout.

The display from the boy-soldier had started to affect the rest of us, and I felt almost frantic and overcome by fear. While Charlie screamed and writhed, however, I lay still, shaking and losing myself in my mind, which I knew to be a dangerous place at the front. It could play tricks on you, incite horror and panic that did not really belong to you, which had no place in battle. At that moment, however, my guard was down and the doubt and blind terror crept over me, dousing me in hysteria and cold sweat. I clamped my mouth shut, though, and said not a word, listening to Charlie's screams.

I watched as he kicked and struggled against his brother's hold, trying to break free, to run away, though God knew where. Pete tried to sooth him, crooning, "It's alright, Charlie. It's alright. Everything's going to be fine. You're going to be fine."

I listened to his words, my own mind racing at one hundred miles an hour as I fought the urge to rail and bawl as well. The rational part of my brain lost out to the fear, my thoughts careering out of control.

_It's alright, Charlie. Charlie. Bella's father's name is Charlie. Good God, where is Bella now? God knows I need her now; I need to be with her, far away from here. Bella! Bella, help me!_

As any remaining calm in my head was carried away by a stream of incoherent agitation, my eyes vaguely registered that Charlie had broken free of his brother's grasp and was racing out of the dugout. Pete leapt up and charged after him, leaving the four of us staring dumbly at the spectacle.

He caught up with his brother several yards from the mouth of the dugout and tackled him, throwing them both to the floor. "Charlie!" he shouted. "It's alright! You'll be alright!"

One of the loudest wails that we had heard so far chose that moment to block out the rest of his words, and Pete barely had time to raise his eyes before there was a blinding explosion and I ducked my head beneath the bunk. When I looked up again, several seconds later, there was a small crater where the two brothers had been, and a trickle of dirt and mud was meandering through the trench.

The four of us under the bed just stared, stunned, before Jasper levered himself out of the cramped space and peered down into the hole just created by the blast. When he came back, his face was drawn and we knew without asking that they couldn't have survived. Nobody stood a chance against a direct hit.

In the hours after that when we lay, sheltering from the shells under the flimsy bunks, my mind was replaying Pete's words to his brother. _It's alright, Charlie. It's alright. _I wanted to laugh at the irony; mere seconds later, they were both decimated by an unavoidable direct hit.

The longer I considered it, however, the more my views on the matter changed. Here we were, fearing for our lives, and the Duncan brothers had no more fear. _It's going to be alright, Charlie. _Indeed, who was I to say that he was wrong? They weren't suffering anymore. They didn't have to listen to the screams of the dying or the jeers of the shells. Perhaps everything is alright for them. Finally. Who was I to say otherwise?

Dawn was finally breaking when the attack came, swarms of grey figures emerging from the bleak and ashen morning. As soon as the shelling stopped, the call came to man the machine guns and prepare to defend our line against the attack that would surely follow. At the command, we fixed our bayonets, and I issued my standard prayer that I would not have to use mine. Then they came.

At first, the enemy seemed a nebulous billow of smoke, drifting towards us like a poison gas. It was only when they came closer that I could start to pick out individuals, and the machine guns quickly mowed them down. A resolute few kept coming, but the guns had no hesitation in picking them off one by one. When the order was bellowed for us to give chase, they numbered but few to our many.

As soon as we climbed up the ladders and over the top, however, we became targets to their defensive guns. Running after the retreating enemy, our packs strapped to our backs, we came under almost instantaneous fire from their answering machine guns. As our comrades fell, we continued to advance, trusting that there were others behind us to fill their place. Right now, there was nothing else we could do.

Ben was on my one side and Jasper on the other, flanking me with Emmett just further along. We made up one of the front lines of attack; it seemed to me miraculous that none of us had been hit, bullets flying past us at dizzying speeds. There was no time to duck or avoid them, and one bullet scraped my cheek just as, out of the corner of my eye, my neighbour fell.

I knew I was not supposed to break rank, but the sight of my friend dropping to the ground stopped me dead. I rushed to his side, but by the time I arrived, his eyes were already glassy, a bullet wound oozing from his forehead. In that moment, all I could think of was the people he was leaving behind: his friends, the family I had never met, the girl he loved, whom I would have to watch suffer.

I stared for a moment, unable to look away, until someone grabbed my arm and pulled me on, on with the crowd, the attack. I kept running – it was the only thing I could do. In battle, there is no time to mourn or bury your dead. That would come later. For now, we had to either kill or be killed.

I trudged on, a haunting thought running through my head. _We are the dead. The walking, breathing, living dead._

_

* * *

_

**So... Million dollar question: WHO DIED?**

**OME, if I didn't know, I'd be _freaking out_ right now! Jasper, or Ben, or Emmett? Haha, sorry about that, but the cliffie was too hard to resist. If you look closely, there was a little clue, actually. I wonder how many people will spot it?**

**If you have any theories you'd like to expound, you could head over to the G&R Twilighted thread, twitter me, PM or whatever. Tell me everything... You can trust me ;)**

**For the one millionth time, don't forget to vote in the Indies - the first round ends tomorrow! Link's on my profile.**

**Thank you, bbs. Until next time *mwah*.**


	35. We Shall Keep The Faith

**Well, here we are again with ANOTHER update! I am having as much trouble believing this as you, trust me ;)**

**Firstly, thank you to everyone who voted for me in the first round of the Indies! _Guns and Roses_ is through to the final round in the categories MOST ROMANTIC MOMENT and MOST ORIGINAL CHARACTER (seriously, where is that coming from? Do people mean Sister Martin? Marie? Confused :P) I really appreciate all the votes, and the final round voting opens the 22nd July... Just saying...**

**Secondly, and even more excitingly, this story now has 1,000 reviews!!! I know that, compared to many stories out there, it's not loads, but I am thrilled :D So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who's ever reviewed! I love you, really I do.**

**WOO HOO!**

***ahem* Anyway, this is another letters chapter, as some of you already know. This time, instead of subjecting you all to annoying type faces, I've put the sender at the beginning of the letter, just to make it all a bit easier. I think I'm going to go back and edit the other chapter so it's the same. One thing I would say is pay a little attention to the dates at the tops of the letters, and remember that it would have taken at least two weeks for a letter to go from France to America and vice versa. Some of them aren't sequential, which does make a difference.**

**Now, if I haven't confused everyone too much, here we go!**

* * *

We Shall Keep The Faith

_Miss Alice Masen  
Forks  
28th June 1918_

My dear Jasper,

Bella is home! Oh, I cannot tell you how happy this makes me! I have missed her so much and now she is back, and a little piece of me is healed. When you and Edward return, I shall be complete again.

Bella's father is very ill, of course, but I'm sure he will get better. How could he not with such an attentive nurse as Bella looking after him? I go and sit with dear Charlie everyday, although I don't think he always realises I am there. Still, I know all will be well because Bella is here now! I was so relieved to see her, I tell you, Jasper – Father was even afraid Charlie might not last until she arrived. I am no fool, but I choose to forecast the best, because anything other is unthinkable for Bella, whom I love as a sister.

Speaking of which, have you heard the news? Bella and Edward are going to be married! Oh, this is so exciting! I just know they will be happy together, and I am so pleased for them. I told you it would happen eventually, even if they did take their time. That's just Edward's way; he's cautious by nature and over thinks _everything_. Trust me, I know these things.

Enough about me, though. How are you, Jasper? It's been so long since I've had a letter from you that I worry. You are alright, aren't you? You never tell me anything about the war, even though I've asked you before. Why won't you tell me what it's like to be a soldier? I tell you all about my life, after all. I long to hear about battles and what life is like for you, and I won't be content until I do. I understand that the war is not what propaganda tells us, but I'm not afraid of that. I want you to trust me as I trust you.

Please write to me soon, Jasper. I miss you and want to hear from you so badly. Please don't let me be anxious much longer.

Love,

Alice

* * *

_Miss Isabella Swan  
Forks  
29th June 1918_

Dearest Edward,

You see I am home safely and I write to you from the front room in my own father's house. The action is both comforting and unnerving, familiar and surreal. Everything is as it was and yet wholly different; perhaps it is I who have changed. I now feel I understand a little of what you experienced when you came home in February, how alien you must have felt, walking around the home and in clothes that no longer seemed your own. I am sure that your family, my neighbours, must see me for the imposter I am. Any day now, I expect them to chase me out of town with torches and pitchforks.

The good people of Forks, insular and introspective as it is, have no comprehension of what I have seen and been through, and I have no wish to enlighten them. They cannot hope to understand, and I feel ashamed that I was ever like them. The other day, Mrs Cope asked me if the war was like she'd seen in the pictures – she takes the coach every month into Port Angeles to their new theatre – and I almost burst into tears right before her. Like the pictures! How far she is from the truth! It took everything I had to smile politely and walk away when my mind was screaming to shake some sense into her.

These are the people that feed the myths and lies, Edward! Or, rather, they are the dumb vessels who happily swallow and spread the lies the authorities propagate. Even now, after all our soldiers have suffered, I see posters urging more young men to join up, to go to their deaths. It is intolerable that this should continue after all the loss of life our country has been forced to endure. I want to rail and shout for everyone to hear, so that they might stop this foul propaganda.

But, Edward, what would I say? Who would believe me if I told the truth: that I have seen men rendered blind and deaf, who have lost their nerve and their wits, men with no legs or arms; who would believe me if I said I'd held the hand of a boy no older than myself whose skin had been entirely peeled off by gas? No-one, I'd be prepared to wager a great deal on. Nobody wants to listen to the truth.

I'm sorry, Edward – I know I must sound bitter and self-righteous, but these things just make me so angry. The ignorance of some people astounds me, it really does! Forks, dear as it is to me, seems smaller than ever and I feel I am going mad seeing the same people and doing the same things everyday. My father needs me, of course, and I would not be anywhere but by his side while he is so ill, but other than the loving company of your family, the monotony of this small town routine is driving me to distraction.

Nursing Father occupies a lot of my time, but other than that, I am expected to sit in a ladylike manner and read or sew for a large portion of the day! I can't remember a time when I was so rested and yet so restless, and I cannot bear to be idle. I have sent away the housekeeper, so that I might have all the care of my father and the house, but even with that and knitting for the Red Cross, I barely fill my days from dawn till dusk.

I spend a great deal of time with Alice, which is wonderful, and your mother has me over for dinner almost every night; she has often invited me to stay with them, but I couldn't leave my father or allow anyone else the chief of his care. He is so very ill, you see, and it is both my duty and my wish to tend to him. No amount of persuasion on her part shall shift me; I stand firm.

Edward, strong as I might appear for your family's sake, I am afraid. I don't know what I should do if my father were to die of his illness, and, as his fever does not abate, the possibility remains. I long to see a little colour in his cheeks, to see his eyes bright with mirth instead of fever, to be able to promise him with sincerity that he will be well. No amount of medical training or field experience can prepare you for seeing someone you love suffer, and as such I feel completely under-qualified. His care is in my hands, and yet there is little I can do for him. If something should happen to him – well, frankly, I don't know what I should do.

Sometimes, when his temperature is highest, he lies deathly still, and other times he moans and speaks my mother's name. It takes me back to when we were nursing her, although I was too young to do much except hold her hand and make sure she was comfortable. The doctor wanted her to go into hospital several hours away, but my father would not hear of it. He said he would not have her spend her last weeks anywhere but in her own bed, and when she became too weak to sit up herself, he would hold her and feed her like a child. He loved her so much and I know how he misses her, even now.

I remember the day she died: your mother was there and you were waiting just outside, fidgeting worriedly, if I remember correctly. When she closed her eyes for the last time, my father collapsed in tears, but at first I did not cry. Instead, I took one last look at her dignified, beautiful sleeping face and then I walked out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house, looking through you as if you weren't there. I walked calmly through the streets and over the brook to the meadow, and you followed me, not saying a word. You found me, I remember, curled up behind the trunk of an old oak, and you sat next to me and held me all afternoon while I cried.

You were only thirteen years old and yet you seemed so much more adult that day. I needed you so much then, and I need you now, too. I need you to hold me and tell me it will all be alright, even if it won't. If I can't have my mother, or even my father, at least I have you and I thank the heavens for it. You are my shield, my very great reward, and I don't deserve you. I love you. Come back to me.

Bella

* * *

_Private Masen  
Amiens  
30th June 1918_

Bella,

I love you. I think that's all I'm sure of anymore. My mind is a jumble, turned upside down, and everything I thought I knew is gone. Almost everything. I love you, I know that. I just want to be at home with you, to wrap my arms around you and never let you go. Without you, I feel as if I am falling apart, and I hardly know what to do with myself. Everything I thought was certain, fixed, is now no longer so. I swear the picture of you behind my eyelids, your beautiful smile sending warmth seeping through me, is all that sustains me some days.

Ben is dead, Bella. He was killed in battle a few days ago and I feel I am lost. He was right next to me, one minute running with the rest of us, and the next lying in the mud with a bullet through his head. He was at my side, my brother-in-arms, and now he is gone. How is that even possible? I know I cannot process it. The world seems turned on its head, and I am swimming in a polluted sea of confusion and uncertainty, melodramatic as that sounds. I don't know where I am going anymore, but I only hope that one day soon I will arrive.

The only thing I'm sure of is that I need to see you, to feel you, and only then can I be myself again. Only then can I find what I lost: my friend, perhaps; my love, certainly; but more than that, my identity. You have been the keeper of my soul for some time – I need it back now, Bella. I need _you_, the other half of me. When I thought I would die, the shells dropping all around me, you were what I thought of. I wanted you to comfort me, so much, but you were far away. Too far away. Too far for me to bear much longer.

I think I'm going insane, Bella. I don't know who I am anymore. Ben is gone, and you are gone, and Emmett and I are left to pick up the pieces. Did I tell you I saw Jasper? We came across him during the bombing and he sheltered with us. He seemed well – a Lance-Corporal, you know. For all his pacifist principles, he's a born fighter and leader. It was good to see him and, though you may laugh at me, I know that he is a decent guy. He deserves Alice; I never thought I'd say that, but it's true. I want her to be happy, I really do. Send her my love, my sweet baby sister. God, I want to see her face right now, too.

I just wish I was home with you all. I hope your father is recovering. Write to me, Bella; I don't know what I shall do if I don't hear from you soon.

As always, yours,

Edward

* * *

_Miss Isabella Swan  
Forks  
16th July 1918_

Dearest Angela,

Sweetheart, I hardly know what to say to you. I wish I was there, so I could comfort you better, but as circumstances dictate differently, I must make what I can of a simple letter.

Words are inadequate to express how sad and sorry I am at Ben's death. When Edward first wrote to me of it, I was trapped in disbelief and declared it could not be true. He was the best of men, the kindest and gentlest, and it is unthinkable that he should be taken so young. I grieve with you as a sister, as well as a friend, and I wish that Marie were still with us to share in our sorrow.

The list of my deceased friends seems almost to grow daily and I cannot help but wonder who will be next. I live in fear, as I'm sure you know, that one day the news will be too much and my heart will break – I know the damage would be irreparable. I dare not hope yours is not so. I really would do anything for you and Ben to be together again.

I assure you that I am well, but nursing my own father is harder than anything I've done before. I hope you are keeping well and looking after yourself, and I know that Edward will come to see you as soon as he has leave.

Be strong, please, for me as well as yourself.

With love from,

Bella

* * *

_Lance-Corporal Whitlock  
Amiens  
17th July 1918_

Dearest Alice,

Please do not worry yourself unnecessarily – I am fine and as well as ever. I miss you, of course, and I hope the war is over soon so I can come back to Forks. You know, last week I got a letter from the children at the school, sending me their best wishes. It reminded me of what I've left behind, and coupled with your letter made me wish I were home more than ever.

I don't know if you've already heard this from Edward, but I came across him a couple of weeks ago when his regiment came under fire and we spent a good few hours together, catching up. He told me that Charlie had fallen ill and that Bella had returned to Forks, and I am very sorry to hear it. I wish old Charlie a speedy recovery, and Bella a speedy return to France. More people than Edward miss her here.

The only bright side I can see is that Charlie's illness has brought Bella back to you, at least for a while. I know you enjoy her company, and I certainly look forward to seeing her again. As for Edward, he's counting down the minutes until they're back together – only a few hours with him showed me that. He loves her more than he knows how to handle.

I'm sorry, Alice, I know you are strong and a grown woman, but I just can't give you all the blood-stained details of this conflict. I don't want to be condescending towards you – I would never do that – but I can't drag you into something I abhor like this. I do my duty and I don't complain, but I would never dream of involving you in it. I hope you can understand, if not now then in time.

It's a different world out here, Alice, and believe me when I say that you would be better off not knowing. For the record, I do trust you – I'd trust you with more than my life.

I'm afraid I've got to sign off now – I want to get this off to you tonight and I'm about to go on sentry duty. Take care of yourself, darling.

Yours,

Jasper

* * *

_Miss Angela Weber  
Corbie  
2nd August 1918_

Dear Bella,

I thank you for your kind words, and be reassured that I am well enough. I miss you so much; I know this would not be so hard if you were here, and I impatiently wait for you to send word that you are coming back to Corbie. The hospital has moved, of course – it could not stay with the hall so completely destroyed – but even having you in Amiens or somewhere else nearby wouldn't be so bad. At least we would be on the same continent. Please say you are returning to France soon.

I have found a job in the bakery in Corbie, and find work there as good as any. The pay is decent and the hours, although long, go by painlessly enough. It is a distraction, Bella, and I certainly need one else I sink too deeply into my mind. I must be careful not to do that anymore. My mother urges me to come home, but I would rather stay here for now. I am not yet ready to be drawn back into family life as I knew it, and I think that being away is good for me. I feel closer to him, somehow.

I will not patronise you in telling you that I miss him – Ben, that is – and that his loss is so very hard to bear. I'm sure you can imagine how I feel, and if you cannot then I hope you never do. No-one should feel pain like this, and I pray that you are never hurt as I am.

I hope with all my heart that you get your life together with Edward, as I was denied mine with Ben. You must be happy, for you deserve it more than anyone.

Au revoir, ma chérie.

Angela

* * *

_Mrs Elizabeth Masen  
Forks  
1st July 1918_

Dear Edward,

It's your mother here, darling. How are you? I hear from Bella that you've been very busy, but I suppose that's to be expected when you're fighting a war and everything. Just make sure you get plenty of rest and lots to eat, dear, won't you? I can't have my boy losing weight now. When you next get leave, I'll be sure to feed you up a bit.

I'm sure you've heard all about Charlie Swan, and it's a shame, I tell you. He's really not well, poor man, and although Bella nurses him wonderfully, he is not making the recovery we all hoped for. I do fear what will happen if he doesn't make it – dear Bella loves him so much and would be distraught, I know. We all do our best to make him comfortable, but he is weak and I do worry about him.

Bella hardly leaves his side, but Edward, you _must_ urge her to come and stay with us. I've tried to persuade her but she is awfully stubborn; perhaps she would listen to you? She seems determined to be at his disposal twenty-four hours a day, even though I assure her the rest of us would happily take a turn. She is devoted to him, and it does her credit, but she has no concern for her own well-being. But if you will convince her then I shall be happy.

Your father wishes me to tell you that he caught a really big fish last week. I can't remember how big or what sort of fish it was, but next time you see him you must congratulate him. He is dreadfully pleased with himself, and I suppose that is all that matters. I think he uses fishing as a distraction a little, actually – he is terribly upset about Charlie being so ill and he misses you, of course. Still, he is very fond of sitting by the river with a pole in his hand, although I couldn't tell you why.

Now, Edward, you must pay attention. I have talked with Bella a great deal, and I can easily see how fond she is of you. She even once blushed when I brought you up, so I know that her feelings are genuine. You love her, don't you? Oh, I do wish you'd propose to her, and then I might have a daughter-in-law. It's really very thoughtless to go on in this way, you know, dear – please consider your parents! I would so much like for one of my children to marry, and I can think of no-one more deserving of you than Bella. She is such a sweet girl, so kind and clever, and I really think she could make you happy. Do hurry up so that I can get on with planning the wedding!

That's all for now, I think. Oh, wait, it was a trout that your father caught! No – maybe it wasn't. I've quite forgotten. Well, don't tell him and he shall never know.

Thinking of you, darling.

Love,

Mother

* * *

_Private Masen  
Amiens  
22nd July 1918_

Dear Mother,

You really mustn't worry so much – if I were unwell, I'm sure you would know about it by now. I have enough to eat and ample time for rest, so don't be alarmed. My situation really isn't that bad – others have it far worse, let me assure you.

I have heard about Mr Swan, and I am very concerned about him. Bella has told me how anxious she is, and I share in her worry. I'm glad you are there to help her, but remember that she is used to long hours and hard work and does not shy away from them. I assure you that it is entirely pointless for me to try to persuade her to do otherwise – you were sadly mistaken in thinking she might listen to me. She is, as you remarked, exceptionally stubborn.

I really wish you would stop putting pressure on Bella and me to do anything. Did I not already tell you that when I got engaged, you would be the first to hear? All in good time, Mother. We are far away from each other at the moment, and Bella is much too busy with Charlie to think of anything like marriage. Besides, I would need to ask Mr Swan's permission before anything could be made official. I promise you, however, that I love her very much, and have every intention of one day making her my wife. Will that satisfy you?

Must conclude now – writing paper's running out again!

Yours,

Edward

p.s. Please congratulate Father on his mammoth catch – whatever it was.

* * *

_Private Masen  
Amiens  
24th July_

Dear Angela,

It's hard for me to know what to write to you but I think you deserve to hear what happened. How it happened. I don't know what you've been told officially, but they never give you the whole story. I want to do just that.

You must understand that this is hard for me to talk about. He was my friend and I feel his loss acutely, so you'll forgive me if my account is brief. I promise, however, not to leave anything out.

Ben died in battle, in No Man's Land; I was by his side when it happened. We had been under shellfire the night before and Ben, Emmett and I sheltered together in our dugout. Jasper, a friend of Bella and myself, joined us with two of his men. I think you should know that Ben was happy then – he joked and laughed with us and we all talked a great deal. When Emmett made a ridiculous, if inappropriate, joke about you, Ben leapt up to defend your honour. He thought so very highly of you.

The shelling lasted till daybreak and then we prepared for the Germans to attack. We defended our line effectively and they began to retreat. That was when the order to follow and capture their trench was given. We all went over the top, Ben on my one side and Jasper on the other, and we chased after them.

Their answering machine guns started up as soon as we got closer and some men fell. Ben was hit, square in the forehead. He died instantly and can't have felt much pain. It was very quick. I saw him drop, but by the time I got to him, he was already dead. I am so sorry.

Ben was a good man: kind, brave and loyal to the end. He would do anything for his friends and for you. I know for a fact that he loved you very much. We all miss him here and he will not be forgotten.

Forgive me but I must conclude now. I am very sorry for your loss.

Sincerely,

Edward Masen

_

* * *

Miss Isabella Swan  
Forks  
18th July 1918_

Private Masen,

God, Edward, I miss you, too! So much. You know that if I could be there with you, I would be, don't you? If my father didn't need me? He still does, though, but he is a little better than when I last wrote. His temperature has dropped, and yesterday we had an almost-normal conversation about the weather. I read to him a little, when he feels well enough, and we are progressing well with _The Hound of the Baskervilles_, although he has no taste for Shakespeare. He is much more coherent and mutters less in his sleep, and so I have needed less help from your mother.

She is so kind and insists on bringing round food when I do not eat with the family, but I cannot convince her that I am quite alright. I know she only means to help but it does grow wearying. Yet I cannot begrudge her as she has been so good to me – much more so than I deserve. I shall be proud to one day call her my mother, if that is still what you want. If that day ever comes, nothing would give me more pride and pleasure than to become your wife; I hope you know that.

Being back here, settling almost back into my old routine has made the events of the last few months seem impossible, and yet so much more real. Everyday I seem to move further from France, and though I know it all happened, part of me dismisses my memories as foolish imaginings. Did I really nurse men fresh from the battlefield, and watch as the hospital was destroyed by enemy fire?

It seems more like years than months ago, and yet I long to be back in Corbie. I am no longer suited to this sheltered life of acquaintances and genteel pursuits, and I crave some kind of activity or occupation. I want to be a working woman, not be content to sit at home like my mother and grandmother. I know you will support me in this and I look forward to the day when we can live together as equals. I hope it is not so very far away.

I ran into Jessica Stanley yesterday, and you would hardly recognise her! Gone are her days of flirtation and frilly frocks; she is now grown too big and too bitter for them. She and Tyler have been married for eight weeks, and he has already gone back to the front. Quite happily, I imagine, for Jessica is not her old cheery self. Do not laugh, for I mean it in all seriousness!

She invited me to her house for tea, and she complained the whole time of sore feet and exhaustion. It was only as I was getting up to leave that she enquired after you and my father, perhaps to get me to stay. She is clearly lonely and I feel sorry for her. Edward, if we ever have children, promise me that you won't stop loving me, even if I become cross and fat!

Jessica seems unhappy, and her mother fussing over her hardly eased her irritation. Not even the baby kicking inside her brought her any pleasure, although it amazed me. It kicked against my hand so hard that I decided it must be a boy, but when I told her this, she only scowled. I am not sure she wants this baby at all and I worry for both of them.

One thing I did realise from visiting Jessica is that her whole life is mapped out for her, here in Forks, and I don't want that for myself. I want to be free for a little, to travel and experience things before I settle down. I would like to go to Germany once the war is over, to see whether the enemy is really so different from us. To be honest, I don't see how they could be. And to England! I would so like to go to London, Edward!

I want to see the world, not stay trapped in Forks, even if it is where I am destined to spend the majority of my _responsible_ days. Promise me we'll travel a little and live life, for we know all too well how short it can be. I never want us to have cause to regret a thing, and I want to make you happy, as you make me. I am excited about our life together, Edward, and I am eager to begin it, as soon as you come home to me.

I am waiting, as always, and I love you.

Bella

* * *

**So it was Ben who died :( Many of you suspected it, but I also got some more outlandish guesses... Not mentioning any names ;) I hope you enjoyed that chapter, and I would love to hear from you, so hit that button :D Thanks again!**

**Top marks/extra points/cyber cookies for anyone who can spot the quote from the Old Testament in one of the letters :P**


	36. Forget Me Not

**Thank you again to everyone who voted in the first round of the Indies :) Second round voting is now open and will close on 29th July. Link's on my profile - I really hope you join in.**

**Congratulations to Orioncat who was the only one to spot the Bible quote in the last chapter. Impressive knowledge ;) Chocolate-chip-macademia-nut-cyber-cookies for you, then.**

**I'm kind of blue because my readership and review count was down for the last chapter - probably something to do with people being away for the summer but still. I kind of want to put this story on hiatus until the autumn, but I could never do that to you guys!**

**Thank you to Cullenista (invaluable) and Stephenie Meyer (kind of important, I guess :P) and all that, so without further ado, on to the chapter...**

* * *

Forget-Me-Not

**EPOV**

_3.00am, 8__th__ August, Amiens_

I hadn't slept a wink all night, but my adrenaline-fuelled energy showed no signs of waning. This was the day, the big day. This morning, before dawn, we would go over the top, for better or worse, although I didn't see how it could be better.

The majority of our regiment was sprawled out in the trench, talking quietly or enjoying a smoke. The uneasy tension settled thickly about us, no-one wanting to break the fragile peace of the morning. Darkness still covered the trench and would for a few more hours; our attack this morning was to completely catch the Germans off guard. Everybody knew we only had the element of surprise to preserve us before the enemy machine guns cut us down.

A murky fog had descended over No Man's Land some time around two thirty, and it didn't seem inclined to lift. That would make our offensive almost blind, but I knew it made no difference. It would only mean that we couldn't see the gunners as they took aim, and perhaps that was a good thing.

Emmett had insisted that we play cards, probably to distract us from the impending attack, but our hearts weren't in it. I stared blankly down at my hand, barely noticing what I had, before laying my cards down on the ground with a sigh. "Give it up, Emmett."

He frowned but collected up the cards and reshuffled them, shoving them into his grimy pocket. "Want a smoke?" he offered.

I considered for a moment; I'd never actually taken up the habit, but there seemed little point in refusing now. "Sure."

He handed me a cigarette and I propped it between my lips, leaning closer to light it with his. With it glowing softly like embers on a warm fire, I leaned back against the mud wall of the trench. "Thanks," I mumbled, and he nodded vaguely.

I took the rolled-up paper between my fingers and drew on it deeply, letting out a shaky breath. The acrid taste burnt the back of my throat but I welcomed the uncomfortable sensation, the bitter smoke curling from my mouth in a smoky haze.

We smoked in silence for several minutes, greedily pulling on the cigarettes until they burnt our fingers. I flicked my stub casually onto the ground, then only a minute later picked it up and slipped it in my pocket. As I did so, my fingers brushed against the paper that was folded there: a letter to Bella that I had penned the night before.

I pulled it out and examined it disinterestedly, seeing the way my handwriting sloped, curling around the familiar letters of Bella's name. I had printed the address hurriedly on an envelope and now I slipped the leaves inside, sealing it firmly and clutching it between my fingers.

I held it tightly for several minutes before loosening my grasp and standing up from the ground. "I want to make sure this gets to Bella," I told Emmett, who was leaning on his elbow, lounging on the ground. "I wouldn't want it to fall out of my pocket when we go over the top." He nodded as if he took that reason seriously. "I mean, it might get covered in mud or something," I went on, but he was no longer listening.

I took my leave and walked down the line of the trench, leaving Emmett's inert figure, and the security it brought, behind me. As I did so, I brushed my fingers over the paper of the letter, stroking it gently with an unsteady hand. I wished I could go with it, so I could be back in Bella's arms within mere weeks. I wished that I could see Bella right now.

I handed the letter over to my commander to be posted that night, and as I walked back I pulled the second page out of my pocket, the first draft of that letter I had written to Bella. I unfurled it and cast my eye over the script, the handwriting the same but the words completely different.

_Dear Bella,_

_I'm afraid. I'm fucking terrified that some time I'll go on leave and you won't be there, or that one morning you'll wake up and I'll be gone. How am I supposed to deal with that, Bella? How am I supposed to go on –_

I stopped reading and scrunched the page up into a ball, disgusted with myself. I knew I could never send Bella such a letter, and yet I had written it anyway, in a fit of desperation. To send it, to even _think _it was cowardly, and I would do anything rather than shame Bella and my family. They deserved better; they deserved a son or brother or _fiancé_ who would be strong for them. I would do that, no matter what it cost me.

I sat down again next to Emmett and took up his matches, striking one and gazing at it contemplatively. Then, slowly and deliberately, I smoothed out the unsent letter and held it lightly between my thumb and forefinger, stroking the tongue of the flame along the edge of the page. As the paper caught, I dropped it to the ground and blew out the match, watching as the flame devoured the treacherous words, erasing them as if they had never existed. When all that was left was ashes, I scattered them to the wind and banished it from my mind once and for all.

**BPOV**

_11__th__ August 1918_

I stood before the sink, looking out over the garden through the kitchen window. The water was grey and cold by now, but I sank my hands back in regardless, scrubbing at the sheet swirling in the water. My fingers were red and wrinkled by the prolonged submersion, but that thought didn't cross my mind as I rubbed away at the fabric.

Outside, the day was warm and bright, the sun not yet having reached its midday point. Although it was not yet ten o'clock, I had been at work for several hours, washing and wringing out clothes and bed linen, then hanging them on the line in the yard. It was dull, time-consuming work, but nothing compared to what I was used to in the hospital. In fact, this was positively restful in comparison.

My hands fell idle as I stared out of the window, admiring the way the sun played off the leaves and few flowers that my father had had the foresight to plant in the spring. The apple tree stood proudly in the centre, its branches extending over the surrounding grass, casting it in delicate patterns of dappled shade. I had always loved that apple tree, as my mother had before me. She had planted it when she first married my father and moved to this house, almost twenty-one years ago. It had grown and changed a lot since then, of course, but it still always made me think of her.

I smiled as my gaze fell on it, then turned back to the washing, the corners of my mouth still lifted. I scrubbed away at the sheet for a few minutes longer, working the brush furiously and once catching my knuckle, making it bleed a little. Eventually I decided that it was sufficiently clean, and pulled it from the water, twisting it firmly between my hands to squeeze out the water.

I added it to the basket of damp linen sitting at my feet, then shifted it onto my hip and walked out of the backdoor and into the garden where the mangle was set up. I swiftly began running the cloth through it, turning the stiff handle with detached efficiency. One load of washing already fluttered on the line further down the garden, and it would not be long before this one joined it. I was much too practised to dawdle over this mundane task.

I finished the basketful in record time and pegged it on the line, my mind somewhere else entirely. In my head, I was back in Corbie, talking to a homesick soldier or perhaps sneaking off to see Edward. I happily occupied myself with these thoughts for some time before I realised that my basket was empty and the task was done.

I strolled back inside and stowed the basket, rolling my sleeves up further to clean the counter and sink. I was just settling into the job when I heard a knock on the door, swiftly followed by an excited squeal. "Bella!"

I rolled my eyes, a smile creeping onto my face. "Come in, Alice!" I called back.

The door clicked open and closed and a beaming Alice skipped into the kitchen. "Good morning, Bella!" she chimed happily, sitting down at the table. "What are you doing?"

"I'm digging a tunnel to Africa, Alice. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Unperturbed by my teasing, she continued, "Would you like to do something else?"

I set down my rag and turned to face her, leaning against the counter as I asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," she replied, shrugging casually, but I could see her excitement bubbling under the surface.

"What is it, Alice?"

She let out a high laugh in response and pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket, waving it wildly in the air. "I got another letter from Jasper, Bella!"

"Good," I responded but hesitated, sensing that there was something more. "And?"

She took a deep breath and pursed her lips together before blurting out, "He's got leave in six weeks!"

She leapt up from her chair and threw herself towards me, and I only just managed to catch her before she pushed the pair of us back into the sink. "That's wonderful, Alice!" I told her, genuinely happy that she would get to see him so soon.

"I know!" she sighed, letting go of me and walking back to the table, pulling me along with her. We both sat down and I smiled as I looked at her face, glowing with joy.

"Oh, Alice, he does make you happy, doesn't he?" I said fondly.

"So happy, Bella," she confessed.

"And you've told him you love him?"

She shrugged but looked me unabashedly in the eye. "I don't need to."

I floundered for a moment but pressed on, "Does he love you?"

"Of course," she replied confidently.

"Yet he hasn't said it?" I pushed hesitantly.

She rolled her eyes and stretched across the table to take my hand. "He doesn't need to, Bella. I just know. This is bigger than words."

"Alright," I said slowly, searching her face for any signs of misgiving. "If you're happy –"

"Silly Bella!" she laughed, squeezing my hand gently. "Of course I'm happy! Jasper is coming home!"

I smiled warmly at her and she beamed back, her countenance radiant and ecstatic. "How is Charlie this morning?" she asked, her smile seeming fixed on her face.

"A little better, actually," I replied with satisfaction. "He's still weak but definitely improving. Last time I peeked in at him, he was lost in a book."

"Can I go up?" Alice asked, and I nodded immediately.

"Of course. He'll be thrilled to see you."

I led the way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, and Alice tripped lithely along behind me. Her normal exuberance almost seemed to be bubbling over today, spilling into those she came into contact with. Whether happy or sad, Alice was always the extreme and couldn't help but infect those around her with her winning smile or heart-wrenching pout.

I knocked on the door to my father's room, and after a moment, a gruff, "Come in," sounded from behind it.

I pushed open the door and showed her inside, telling my father, "Alice is come to see you."

His face lit up in an instant and I bit my lip to contain my humour at his face; he looked so eager, like a little puppy getting a treat.

"How are you this morning, Charlie?" Alice sang, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to his bed. He was propped up against the headboard, pillows stuffed behind his back to support him, and I fluffed them up for him while he spoke to her.

"Not bad, Alice, not bad. I am glad to see you. Tell me, how is everything with you?"

I smiled to see that he looked better this morning, a little colour having returned to his cheeks. He had started to eat again, to my great relief, and I brought him up something at every mealtime. He still wasn't consuming food like he used to, but the improvement on just a few weeks ago was noticeable.

"Everything is magnificent, Charlie!" Alice replied and launched into an explanation at top speed. I decided to leave them to it, and quietly withdrew from the room, tiptoeing back down the stairs to the kitchen.

I tried to get back to my cleaning, but the sunshine outside was calling to me and I couldn't refuse it. Setting down my cloth and soapy bucket, I headed out into the garden, breathing deeply as the sunlight touched my face, feeling the bright morning air flow through me.

Looking around, I noticed that there were a couple of patches in the flowerbeds that looked decidedly worse for wear, and as my father had been in no state to tend them, the plants were wilting from neglect. I fetched his trowel and fork from the shed and knelt on the grass by the beds, weeding and pulling up the strays to give the flowers room to grow. It was peaceful work, the sun warm overhead and the trees swaying with the light breeze, and I soon fell into a calming rhythm.

I didn't stop pulling up the weeds until I heard Alice calling to me from inside. "Bella! Where are you?"

"In the garden, Alice!"

She came out onto the porch and laughed when she saw me, kneeling on the ground, a streak of dirt on my cheek where I had brushed a hair back. "There you are! I thought you'd run off."

"No, I'm still here," I smiled back. "Do you want to help me?"

She wrinkled her nose delicately before taking a few more cautious steps towards me. "Gardening? Well, it's not really my thing, but I suppose –"

I chuckled under my breath but turned my head so she wouldn't see. "That's alright, Alice, you don't have to help."

"Well, isn't there something I can do that wouldn't get me all – dirty?" She gestured disdainfully at my blouse and skirt, grass-stained and brushed with earth.

I thought for a moment, then pointed at the old green watering can resting by the flowerpots. "You could fill that up and give the flowers a water. It's been so dry recently."

"Oh, I'd like to do that!" she exclaimed enthusiastically, and I laughed at how much she resembled a small child as she picked up the big watering can and ran off to fill it. I remembered how I used to do the same job when I was little, following my mother round the garden when she'd been planting and dousing the plants, and usually myself, with water.

Alice returned a few minutes later brandishing the large watering can, from which I could now hear water slopping, and began pouring it on the flowerbeds. She edged her way around the garden while I finished up on the bed I was working on, standing up when I was done and stretching out my limbs.

"Have you nearly done it all, Alice?" I asked, but she didn't answer so I walked over to see what she was up to.

She was bent over a bush, staring avidly at a single leaf, her tongue peeking out of her mouth as she slowly reached her finger towards it. "Alice?" I repeated, but she completely ignored me. I leant closer to see what she was looking at, and my eyes fell on a caterpillar crawling slowly across a large leaf. Alice seemed to be trying to coax it onto her finger, urging it on with encouraging noises.

Rolling my eyes, I picked up the watering can from by her feet and began doing the last bit, hoping that soon I could go in and make Charlie's lunch. Suddenly, however, Alice shouted, "Bella!" and I spun to see her barrelling towards me, her hand outstretched. "Get it off me!" she shrieked, waving her hand around violently, and when I looked closer I saw that she had the caterpillar resting on her fingertip.

Trying not to laugh, I caught her hand and started to remove the offending creature, but just at that moment, it crawled up onto her wrist and she let out a loud squeal, thrashing wildly in apparent panic. In doing so, she knocked the watering can, which was resting precariously in my arms, into the air and I felt the cold water hit my skirt, a sharp contrast to the warm air temperature.

I gasped, stilling my movements, and that was when I saw that Alice, too, had been caught by the splash. Her blouse was soaked and I just gaped at her for a moment, trying to hold back laughter as her expression moved from shock to realisation. We just stared at each other for a few moments, before a giggle escaped me at the look on her face.

At first she appeared annoyed at my reaction, but then her frown lifted and she smiled at me as other giggles followed the first one. She even joined in with my laughter a little, attempting to wring out her sopping clothing. Drenched Alice was so comical that I couldn't help but break out into giggles again each time I caught sight of her, but she was reluctant to stay and be the source of my mirth, brushing me off impatiently.

"Bella, I'm soaking!" she protested when I tried to mop at her with my handkerchief, which had absolutely no effect. "I need to go home and change."

I nodded in agreement, surrendering the drying effort that had only succeeded in making my handkerchief heavy with water as well, and let her go. Just as she was about to leave, though, she turned and said, "Bella, Mother wanted me to invite you to lunch today. You will come, won't you?"

"Thank you, Alice," I replied. "I would, but my father –"

"Oh, Mother said not to worry about him," she replied airily, dismissing my protests with a wave of the hand. "She'll bring him something over when we're done. Please, Bella?" she begged, unleashing her most persuasive pout on me and, of course, I caved.

"Alright," I sighed. "I'll just change my skirt and come right over. Thank your mother for me, won't you?"

She smiled victoriously and walked away, dripping a little as she passed through the house. I shook my head, amused and annoyed that she could manipulate me so easily, but my feelings settled on fondness as I watched her go.

Looking down at myself, I remembered the large wet patch spreading over the front of my skirt, and quickly stowed the watering can before running up the stairs to change. It didn't take me long to be ready to leave again; I just popped my head around my father's door to tell him where I was going. He waved me off cheerily enough, so I grabbed my hat and took off out of the door.

I walked briskly down the street, the sun shining brightly overhead and warming me thoroughly; I fervently wished that decorum did not dictate that women should always keep their shoulders sheltered from the sunlight in public. It was a beautiful day, I reflected, the mottled shade from the trees casting the street in dancing patterns of dazzling light. A child ran past me, his frazzled mother in tow, and I stifled a smile as the little boy yelled for her to keep up.

All my best memories, from a very early age, featured Edward and myself, playing in the town and surrounding fields. The meadow was our refuge, and yet since I had come back from Corbie I had not yet visited it. Perhaps I didn't want to do it alone; perhaps I just had not found the time.

**EPOV**

_THREE DAYS EARLIER_

_4.20am, 8__th__ August 1918, Amiens_

A shout echoed over the assembled men in the trench and we all shuffled forwards, heavy with what we were about to do. I was pushed in between Emmett and Elliot, and I keenly missed the reassuring presence of Ben at my side.

"See you in Berlin!" Emmett joked feebly, and I cracked a weak smile in return.

Steeling myself, I put one hand on the splintered ladder and braced my foot on the bottom rung. "This is it, then," I muttered. "Here we go, boys!"

The seconds before the commander ordered us over the top seemed to last years, my thundering heart drowning out all other noise. The silence rang in my ears for one endless moment until, as if under water, I saw the commander's mouth move as he bellowed the order, and felt my feet start to carry me up the ladder and over the top. I was aware only of Emmett next to me, the others from our regiment following behind us, new strength propelling my legs forward through No Man's Land.

Then the defensive fire began and bullets sprayed around us, shells dropping on the body of men as we ran. I squinted through the dense fog and imagined I could see the German line of barbed wire ahead of me, over four hundred yards away. Taking a deep breath of the misty morning air, I ducked my head into the sea of bullets and I ran.

**BPOV**

_11__th__ August 1918_

I reached the door of the Masens' house and tapped, but there was no answer. I knocked harder, but still no-one came. Wondering if they might all be in the garden and so unable to hear me, I pushed open the door and walked into the hallway, blinking rapidly to adjust my eyes to the difference in light levels.

Ridding myself of my hat, I walked further into the house, calling softly, "Mrs Masen? Alice? It's Bella."

When I still got no reply, I became confused, thinking that I might have misunderstood the invitation. I walked through the familiar halls to the front room and, on pushing open the door, was greeted with the sight of all three of the present Masens before me.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this," I began to apologise, but when I looked closer I saw that something was wrong. Mrs Masen was on her knees on the floor, her face in her hands, and Mr Masen had his back to me, staring at the far wall instead.

Alice stood in the middle of the room, tears streaming down her face, and instinctively I moved towards her. "Alice! What's wrong?" I asked, full of concern for my friends.

She said nothing; not one of them was making a sound. By now, I was seriously worried, my mind racing as I tried to work out what was the cause of their upset. "What's happened?" I pressed anxiously, scanning those present for injuries or illnesses.

Alice was the first to move, holding out her hand to me and whispering, "Bella."

I looked at her hand, not understanding until I saw that she clutched a piece of yellow paper in it. A telegram. My heart flew into overdrive and my palms grew sweaty, fear surging through me. "Alice, what is that?" I asked, although I thought I already knew. A fresh wave of tears coursed down her cheeks, and my blood turned to ice. "Not Jasper?"

Her gaze met mine for the first time, and she looked older than I'd ever seen her before, the grey eyes brimming with unshed tears. In that moment, I knew more of her than I'd ever known, saw deeper into her soul than I'd ever had occasion to see before. In her eyes, which were so unlike her brother's in colour, I saw the same depth, the same emotion, the same love.

"Oh, Bella," she breathed.

My pulse threatening to spiral out of control, my breathing shallow and rapid, I stepped closer to her and took the paper from her trembling hand. I looked once more around the room, shocked by the image of pain before me, and unfurled the telegram in my hand, scanning it quickly. It read, in clipped, military shorthand:

_URGENT TELEGRAM_

_Officially reported Private E. A. Masen of the 13__th__ Battalion missing in action presumed dead 8__th__ August 1918. Convey deepest sympathies and regret on behalf of U.S.A. in loss sustained by death of soldier._

_Colonel Wright_

I stared at the words for several minutes, not understanding the meaning of the clinical terms before me, and it wasn't until Alice took the telegram back from me that I realised my hand was trembling uncontrollably. "Bella?" she asked, looking at me with sympathy and concern, and it was then that I noticed that it was not just my hand but my whole body that was shaking.

"Edward –" I choked, my head starting to swim as my breathing sped still further, none of my limbs now responding to the commands from my brain. "Can't be –"

Alice held out her hand to me and I reached back to take it, but I misjudged the distance in my woozy state and staggered forward onto her. "Bella!" she cried and I felt a couple of pairs of hands take hold of me and begin to lead me to a chair, just as everything went black and I fell deeply into my mind.

Somewhere above me I could vaguely hear voices, cries and urgent commands, but I registered none of it. I swirled deeper and deeper into the blackness, void of all emotion and thought except for the consciousness that it didn't matter. Didn't matter if I lost myself to the oppressive darkness, allowed myself to be swallowed by the black.

The shroud of darkness, of artificial night settled over me and I let it, welcomed it even. In it, I could feel no pain, had no awareness of the outside world. In it, there was just me and the black nothingness that threatened to take me whole. With one more shallow breath, I was gone.

* * *

**OK, I am afraid now. Really afraid. I love you guys, but I in no way trust you not to murder me in my sleep. If you must creep into my home and kill me, though, I ask that you at least stop to admire how clean the house is - I've been busting my arse dusting and hoovering for days. And amidst all that, I even found time to write!**

**Now, the thing is, I expect some of you will be really angry and storm off from this story huffing about how bad it is and how evil I am. That would make me sad. I ask you, please, to stick with this story to the end, which is nigh but not yet upon us. There is one proper chapter left and then an epilogue and I have worked and reworked it for hours, sending files back and forth to Cullenista. Please, please, please, please trust me and allow me to finish the story, and have a little faith. You've stayed thus far, and I appreciate it so much, but this is the course the story must follow and there is a reason for it. All I ask is that you stay and find out what that is. Oh, and please don't flame me or blacken my name around the proverbial streets of fanfiction. I really hope you come back next chapter.**

**Speaking of which, the next and final chapter is already written and just needs some touching up. It will therefore be posted within the next couple of days, because I couldn't leave you hanging longer than that. Hopefully it will give this story some kind of resolution.**

**Thanks for reading and don't forget to review (be gentle) and vote!**

**RosieWilde**


	37. In Memoriam

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Apparently you felt pretty strongly about the turn of events - who'd have guessed it? I got more reviews than ever before, so I am one happy bunny.**

**Now, the long awaited chapter. No, seriously, I've been waiting for this chapter since day one. This scene, or at least part of it, was the original inspiration for this story. I don't write out of sequence, you see, so I had to wait eight long months to get to this chapter. Phew, no pressure, then.**

**It is, however, the longest chapter I've written so far clocking in at over 7,000 words, so it's of a decent length. I dedicate this chapter to Cullenista, for her continued help and fantastic advice as my wonderful beta. Thank you, thank you, thank you. **

**I've spent a long time fretting over this chapter so all there is left to do is post it *gulp***

* * *

In Memoriam

**BPOV**

That night the good weather broke, a storm ripping through the state. The sky cleaved in two, lightning shooting across the dome above from one side to the other, illuminating the town with eerie brilliance. Ghosts seemed to walk the earth that night, shadows lurking just out of reach of the tongues of light. Everywhere I looked were memories, stories, and so everywhere I looked was blinding pain.

The thunder followed shortly after, rattling and rumbling in the sky, the vibrations practically shaking the foundations of the house. The crashes and booms resonated in the claustrophobic atmosphere, almost taking me back to France where I would see the flashes of shellfire in the distance. Now it seemed that I was in the heart of the battle.

I was plagued with dreams that night, silhouetted figures stalking me down sunlit paths and through beautiful fields, lurking in the shadows and waiting to pounce. I knew that they would get me in the end. A golden presence moved with me at first, but it quickly faded away to leave me at the mercy of the shadows which pulled at me and tore at my flesh; several times, I awoke screaming but there was nobody there. I was utterly alone, and that realisation would only make me scream louder.

Echoes of voices, of laughter, rang coldly in my ears, hollow and empty. I cowered, my hands squeezed tightly over my ears, but the sounds did not cease; it was as if they were coming from _within_ me, not outside. Eventually, though, every noise gave way to the pounding roar of thunder, seeming to break right over my head. Several times I looked out of the window, expecting to see a ring of fire around my house where the lightning had struck, but each time there was nothing but darkness.

Last to come were the rains, torrents of water pummelling the roof and streaming in rivulets down the windows and walls. The deluge continued for hours, beating and rapping on my nerves until I felt I would snap. The sound of rain had always made me restless, but now it seemed to be driving me to the brink of insanity. One push and I would be over the edge. Once or twice, I even considered jumping.

The moaning and howling of the wind added to this grief-stricken cocktail and the sound penetrated my every cell, leaving me no respite or shelter. I whimpered, curling up in a ball in my bed, not listening but hardly failing to hear the gale blowing outside. The pellets of rain slammed into my window with ever more force and I winced, each one feeling like a sharp blow to the skull.

I don't know how long it took for morning to come because after that I felt no more. There was no pain in the days that followed the telegram; there was nothing, in fact. Perhaps I wanted to cry, but I wasn't sure, so I didn't. Occasionally, I wanted to shout and scream, and I did do that. In one particular fit of rage, I broke the arm off my mother's old rocking chair, and was instantly filled with such intense remorse that I didn't leave my room for three days.

I hardly left my room at all, in fact, ever. I don't know how long I would spend holed up in there without company or distraction. Time ceased to mean much, really. It wasn't relevant to me because it didn't change anything. They say time heals, but I didn't believe that. Nothing could heal _this_; it was broken – _I_ was broken beyond repair.

For hours at a time, I would just sit, staring at the wall or out of the window. I didn't see anything, and that was a blessing. Nothing I saw would bring me any pleasure, only pain. I was vaguely aware that Alice seemed to be here much of the time, moving silently round the house like a ghost, a spirit, but she did not concern me. Mrs Masen, although devastated herself, brought me food everyday, but I rarely ate it. I would take a few bites while she was there, to please her, and then leave the tray untouched in a corner of my room. Food held no interest for me.

Reverend Johnson, the kindly parish vicar, came to see me once and suggested that I write down how I feel, leaving a notepad and pen tantalisingly on my desk. At first I scoffed at the idea, and covered the page with a string of profanities I had picked up from being around soldiers, but I crumpled that sheet into a ball and threw it at the wall.

The second time, I really did try. The words fell out of my mouth, almost like a poem, except without rhyme or rhythm. I didn't look up until I was done, and then I scanned the page.

_  
Scarlet kisses stained with soldiers' blood  
Line the road where I walk.  
Hope, life, time – gone;  
Lost to the fiery, beckoning eternity in which I wander,  
Fearful of numbness,  
Afraid the price of losing my pain is losing myself._

_A shaft of fickle sunlight tears a hole between the monotonous leaden clouds above  
That mirror the dull turmoil of my mind,  
The calm before a storm.  
The roiling waves of darkness  
Are a constant menace to the fragile cove;  
The streak of golden sunlight-sand has no place here._

_The despair pulls back and rears,  
Poised to roar and crash and break;  
Suspended in time, destruction does not come;  
I wait, my deadened gaze staring down the angry blackness –  
I know I will lose._

_But still the wave does not crash upon me;  
It pauses, unshakeable as a solid brick wall.  
I wait – there is nowhere else to go;  
I shall be engulfed by its hunger –  
It is inevitable as my next breath –  
But even that is an effort now:  
I am suffocating in stillness  
Smothered by silence.  
I cannot summon the energy to scream  
And what would be the point?  
There is no-one to hear me._

_I am alone,  
Drowning in the bleak emptiness of my own mind._

_  
_The words were meaningless and void of emotion, and with a laugh that sounded cold and bitter even to my own ears, I balled up that sheet, too, and tossed it out of the window. The very idea that I could express how I was feeling in mere _words_ was ludicrous. I had been a fool to try.

Within an hour after he'd left, I was back to lying on my bed, staring at the ridges and bumps in the plaster of the ceiling. There was a hairline fracture to its otherwise perfect façade, and that occupied my attention for perhaps another day. There was no way of telling anymore.

One day, hours, days or maybe weeks into my self-imposed purgatory, Alice paid me a visit. She let herself in, for I was not in the habit of answering the door, and came straight up to my room. I vaguely registered that once I would have been pleased to see, but the emotion meant nothing now. Just like everything else, she reminded me of what I had lost.

She tried to talk to me, reason with me but I was an unresponsive companion. "Bella," she tried, "you have to come out of your room. You can't just shut down like this. What about Charlie? He needs you."

Her pleas did strike a chord with me, somewhere deep inside and long buried; I cared for my father and I felt guilty that I was not looking after him. However, the overriding voice in my head told me that nothing would persuade me to leave this room.

"Bella, I miss Edward, too," she persisted, and I flinched upon hearing his name, "but I know that I can't stop living because he has. He wouldn't want that."

"We have no idea what he would want," I intoned flatly, "because he'll never tell us."

Deep in my subconscious, I registered that that wasn't strictly true; long ago, Edward had made me promise that I would go on with my life if anything happened to him. I pushed that memory aside.

She had one last go, pleading me with the most pitiful expression on her face. "Bella, thousands of soldiers have gone missing since this war began. Imagine if everybody who'd lost someone shut down and stopped functioning – this country would have come to a standstill!"

When she got no response from me, she sighed and squeezed my hand for a moment before leaving. I didn't even turn my head to see her go.

Little as she suspected it, however, her words had had an effect on me. Long after she was gone, I turned them over in my mind, analysing them from every angle. Something she had said had struck a chord: thousands of soldiers had gone missing, and that was what Edward had done. He was _missing_. Presumed dead, yes, but it had not been proven. His body had not been found.

So I left my room for almost the first time since the Masens had helped me in there, almost eight days ago. My father started and blinked in surprise when it was I who delivered his food instead of Mrs Masen, but he wisely said nothing on it. I began taking up my old chores again, cleaning and cooking with the same mechanical detachment that I did everything else.

Edward was not dead, I was now sure of it, but neither did I know for certain that he was alive. We were in limbo, the pair of us, for it was now abundantly clear to me that our fates were joined. When I had thought he was dead, I had almost died, and now that I thought he could be living, I was once again taking on a semblance of a life. My unshakeable faith that he had not been killed was the only thing keeping me going, and I clung to it with all the strength I had.

Time still passed without me paying much attention to it, so it took a while for me to realise that I had not started bleeding as usual with the passing month. I kept this piece of knowledge to myself, hugging it tightly to my chest. It was too early to tell, of course, but was it possible that I might be carrying Edward's child? I couldn't remember whether I had bled the previous month; with caring for Charlie, I had been completely distracted. This small gem of a detail sustained me, like a talisman, and I hung onto it fiercely.

Everything changed one afternoon, about three weeks after my world had come crashing down around me. It was around five o'clock and I had finished most of my work for the day, the counters gleaming and the floor scrubbed until the bristles on the brush started falling off in my hand. There was a tap on the front door and I went to answer it, praying that I would not have to fend off Jessica Stanley, or rather Crowley, or one of her ilk.

The postman, Mrs Cope's assistant in the post office, stood at the door, a tired smile on his face as if he were on his way home for the evening. "Sorry to bother you, Miss, only I found this at the bottom of my bag. It must have been misdirected, see?" he said in a friendly if worn out voice, handing me an envelope with marks all over it, the address crossed out and rewritten several times. Under all that, however, I could easily make out Edward's distinctive hand, and my heart pounded so hard in my chest that I was sure I would explode or die or take off or _something_.

I thanked him and took the letter inside, closing the door distractedly behind me. I walked through to the kitchen and sat at the table, holding the envelope in front of me as I stared at it. One voice in my head was telling me to open it immediately, but the other was more cautious, and though I couldn't work out why, it seemed to make more sense than the other.

I put the envelope down on the table and left it there, glancing at it every two seconds as I started to clean the sink. I had given the whole kitchen a once over only the day before, but my hands itched for something to do and I obliged them. When I was done with that, I moved onto polishing the handles on the cupboard doors, followed by taking everything off the shelves and dusting them.

Finally, I had wasted over an hour and done everything that could possibly need doing. It was not yet time to start getting my father's dinner ready, so I just sat and looked at the letter for a while. When I could bear it no longer, I walked calmly up the stairs to my father's room and poked my head around the door, informing him that I was going for a walk. He nodded vaguely, hardly looking up from his latest read, so I grabbed the letter and let myself out of the house.

I didn't plan where I was going but just let my feet carry me, the letter weighing a ton as I balanced it finely between my fingers. I walked through the town and out towards the field, towards the brook. I crossed it at the makeshift bridge and went on, not looking around me, my mind entirely absorbed by the piece of paper in my hand.

Before I realised where my feet were leading me, I found myself in the meadow, _our_ meadow, where Edward and I had spent many happy days together. Devoid of any feeling, I sat down in our favourite spot at the edge of the woods, and stared again at the letter in my hands.

Was this proof that he was alive? Was he writing to tell me that he was coming home, and to be ready for him?

My fingers trembled as I turned the envelope over and slit it open, sliding my fingers inside and pulling out the folded leaf of paper. I could almost feel his presence as I did so, and I was suddenly sure that he was writing to tell me that it had all been a mistake and that he was alright after all. With utter certainty, I opened the letter and glanced down at it.

The second I saw the date, however, my hopes were crushed into dust, and I felt like my lungs were being compressed with them.

_7__th__ August 1918_

The day before he went missing. The day before he died.

_No! It can't be!_ my mind screamed, but just as a minute ago I had been so sure he was alive, now I was certain it was otherwise. _Did he know he was going to die?_ I wondered, the full realisation not yet hitting me. _Is this his way of saying goodbye?_

My whole body shaking slightly, I took a deep breath and cast my eyes down at the letter, beginning to read.

_7__th__ August 1918_

_My Dearest Bella,_

_Dawn is fast approaching, the first tendrils of sunlight snaking into the dusky sky. Soon the sun will be up and it seems that it should be a warm day. I wish, as always, that I could be by your side when you wake, that I could see the sun rise over your sleeping face. Everyday when I wake up you are the first thought to cross my mind and every night before I go to sleep you are the last thing I see when I close my eyes. You keep me company in my every moment, waking or sleeping, and if it were not for you I am sure I would have lost my mind by now._

_I don't know how to write what it is that I want to say; it is a difficult thing for me to express in words and I know that I cannot but fail to convey to you the depth of my emotions. I want you to know how I feel about you, but that is not something I can easily convey in a letter._

_The truth, plain and simple, is that I love you; not for what you look like or what you've done, but for who you are. I love you for everything we've done together and everything we've yet to do, for what we know and what we still need to learn. I love the way your hair falls over your eyes and the way you always push it back. I love the blush that creeps slowly over your cheeks and I love the way you bite your lip when you're nervous. I love the way your smile makes me feel that I can face any bullet, that I can be anything you need me to be. I love the way you make me feel invincible, the way I feel brave, adventurous and safe when I'm with you. I want to stay near to you always, to be close to you, to never leave your side._

_The funny thing is, I never realised how much I loved you until I feared I'd never see you again. I always thought we'd have all the time in the world – our whole lives to be together and love each other. I never realised just how easy it is to end all that until I first saw a man die. It was about three weeks after I arrived at the front and I was homesick and lonely. _

_They told us not to take a light into the passages connecting the trenches because they weren't as deep and Fritz might see us. One man, a Private, didn't listen or forgot the order, I don't know which, and lit a cigarette in a communication trench. I was right behind him and I should have warned him but I didn't, I don't know why. A sniper must have seen it because they shot him, right through the temple._

_I'll never forget the crack from the rifle or the thud he made when he hit the ground. He died instantly, a bullet hole right through his head. No time to even cry out. The commanding officer said it was his own fault. Said he was asking to be shot if he lit a smoke in a communication trench. _

_He lived and died just like the rest of us: useful but replaceable. And the worst thing is, Bella, I don't remember his name. After a while, no-one spoke of him anymore. People who knew him were killed or forced to forget and the new recruits don't know he ever existed. He's just gone, without a trace, as if he were never there._

_You may wonder why I'm telling you this, Bella. I swore I never would, I swore I'd protect you from what I've seen, what I've done. But the truth is, I can't lie to you anymore. I'm afraid of being forgotten, of one day nobody remembering my name. I don't want to end up like that man, that unnamed private. I want to come back to you, I want to marry and live with you and make a home with you. I want you to carry my children and for us to have a family together. I want to be everything I fear I'll never have a chance to be._

_So, Bella, I made you a promise. I promised that I would come back to you and I need you to know that I'm going to keep it. We go over the top tomorrow but I'll try not to be afraid. They say this is it, our big push; this time we've got the Germans on the run. I don't know if this is true – they don't tell us anything – but I'll face the guns like a man, I'll charge with a ferocity they've never seen and I'll get through on sheer determination if nothing else. _

_I will make good on my promise, Bella, do not doubt me. I wish more than anything that I could hold you in my arms right now, feel your silky cheek pressed up against my rough one. You are my life, my hope, the better part of me, and I would do anything for you. I'll see you soon; surely they cannot keep us apart much longer._

_All my love, now and forever,_

_Edward_

I stared blankly at the page in front of me, Edward's beautifully familiar handwriting curling across it, and I felt nothing. Complete numbness; absence of pain, but absence of any sensation, too. I felt like I was in a bubble, cut off from the rest of the world, isolated in my own crumbling reality. With no anchor to hold me in place, I was slowly drifting out to sea and there was nothing to stop me.

I heard a harsh choking sound, like an animal in pain, and I looked around me in confusion before I realised that it was coming from me. Raw, ugly, rending sobs ripped through me and spilled out into the meadow, the sound echoing back at me from the enclave of the trees. My cries rang loud in my ears and I slumped to the ground, holding my hands over my head in an attempt to block out the echoes.

Something seemed to be tearing out from inside of me, wrenching its way free, but I didn't think I could face it, whatever it was. My whole body felt wrong, my head pounding ferociously and my limbs weak, and there was a persistent dragging sensation in my abdomen. I felt wetness between my legs and put my hand under my skirt to check; when I pulled it out, blood glistened along the tips of my fingers. With disillusionment weighing heavy on my heart, I admitted that I was not pregnant after all – just late.

I threw myself to the ground, prostrating myself on the grass and wailing, knowing that there was nobody around to hear me. Each sob was jerked free of my body, heaving as I choked and cried, snatched from me when I could put up no resistance. It was just so cruel: so _cruel_ that fate should do this to me, should take away everything I longed and hoped for in one fell swoop. Why did God hate me like this?

Within a split second I was angry, my crushing sadness being instantly overwhelmed and replaced by all-consuming rage. "Why?" I screamed, shouting furiously into the trees as if the answer lay amongst their leafy foliage. "Why did this happen to me? Why me?"

I felt a sudden desire to hit something, to beat it until it felt even a fraction of the agony I was feeling right now, and so I launched myself at the nearest tree trunk, pummelling it until my hands were bruised and bloody. I didn't stop, even when shards of pain shot up between my knuckles with every punch; I was so relieved to feel something, anything, as the sensation connected me to who I used to be. _To who you still are,_ a tiny voice whispered inside my head, but I blocked it out completely.

My fury was not spent, even when I conceded defeat against the undeserving tree, and I tore at my hair, needing some release from the torment I was feeling. My fingers brushed against Edward's chain, the one I wore constantly around my neck, and my hand tightened around it.

My jaw set in anger as I fervently tried to hold back tears, and the hand that was clenched about the chain now moved to undo it. It coiled into my hand, docile and lifeless, and my rage peaked against it for still acting as if everything was the same when the world had changed irrevocably.

Summoning up every reserve of energy and violent rage in my body, I shouted, "You bastard!" throwing the chain as far away from myself as I could. "You bastard!" I continued to rail, the emotion pouring up and out of me. "You promised you'd come back to me and then you didn't! You son of a bitch! You lied to me!"

Suddenly I collapsed, falling heavily to my knees, tears already streaming down my face as I wept heartbrokenly for the man that had promised me everything and who now lay dead in some field in France. I wondered if they had even found his body, had given it a proper burial. Maybe he was unidentifiable, distorted beyond recognition by some foul enemy weapon. In my head, however, he looked in death as he did in sleep: peaceful and untroubled. I refused to think of him any other way. He would forever remain young and beautiful, strong and vibrant.

The tears were flowing constantly now, as if a dam had been breached and the waters were impossible to contain. I wept silently, the memory of when I had last seen his face playing over and over again in my mind. He waved me off from the train station in Corbie, his countenance earnest and his eyes loving, watching me until the train disappeared in the distance. I never took my eyes off him, drinking in every aspect of his handsome face, his expression sad and yet understanding. Where did he find that courage? I was sure that I could never be brave again.

The tears continued, unchecked, and I made no effort to wipe them away. The sun crept down towards the horizon on the edge of the trees, and I suddenly panicked at the thought that once it was dark, I might not be able to find the silver cross. Scrambling to my feet, I frantically searched the long grass, squinting through my tears for a glint of silver that might betray its position.

After a few minutes' hunting I found it, nestling in a clump of feathery grass, and I gratefully scooped it up and clutched it in my palm. Doubling over, sinking to my knees once more, I allowed myself to weep for Edward and the promises he would never keep, every ounce of my pain and anguish seeming to seep out through my tears. They cleansed me, washing away the last traces of my anger, until I was spent but freshened.

I felt myself drifting, floating on a sudden wave of exhaustion that swept over me, carrying my limp body with it. I let it take me, having no desire to stay and face reality when the real world was crashing down around me. My eyes felt gummed closed, heavy with shed and unshed tears, and my head drooped listlessly as fatigue overtook me.

It was then that I heard, as if through a dream, a voice calling to me: an angel's voice. "Bella," it whispered, the melodic rise and fall of the words telling me that this could only be an imagining. It was Edward's voice.

"You came back to me," I breathed in reply, and his breath tickled my cheek as his lips curled up in the gentlest of smiles.

"Of course I did. I promised, didn't I?"

"I thought you were going to break that promise," I confessed, and he chuckled softly.

"No, Bella. I wouldn't do that. Are you alright, Bella? Bella. Bella!"

The voice sounded so real, so convincing in my dream-like state. It was getting louder now, though, and I didn't like the way it was disturbing my reverie. Groggily, as if I had been asleep for hours, I opened my eyes and looked around to see that the meadow was quickly fading into the twilight.

I lifted my head and something flickered in my peripheral vision; someone else was here. My head snapped around and I stopped breathing as my dazed eyes looked into other, clearer ones. "Bella," he breathed, his sweet breath washing over my face.

"Edward?" I asked, confused and disoriented.

"Yes, Bella. It's me."

"But – you're dead," I reasoned, trying to process the information.

"No, love, I'm not. Trust me on that one."

"But then –" My brain was struggling to keep up with what was going on, a thick stupor having settled over me when I cried myself out. "Am I dreaming?"

"Not anymore," he assured me, and that was when I noticed that his voice sounded haggard and tired. The Edward of my dreams was never weary or dishevelled, and when I looked closer I noticed that this man was both of these things.

"Edward?" I asked one more time, still unsure, and he sighed.

"Bella, I promise you, I am here. I have come home." His hand slowly reached out to me, and with calloused fingers, he gently stroked my cheek. I held my breath, waiting for the beautiful illusion to smash, the shards to fly everywhere, but he did not dissolve into the gathering darkness. Perhaps this was an illusion, but if it was, I would take it happily and never look back. He was here with me, and that was all that mattered.

I moved towards him, tentatively at first but then I threw caution to the wind and lifted my hand up to touch his face, to run it over his cheekbones and up over his forehead to his hair. He closed his eyes under my touch, holding very still as if worried that any sudden movement would send me running.

I traced my fingers gently, reverently over his familiar features, silently praying that this was real and that I wasn't about to wake from the best dream of my life. As I brushed my thumb over his mouth, his eyes fluttered open and gazed deeply into mine, the piercing green so alive and vivid that I wanted to weep. A lump building in my throat, I leaned closer, inch by inch, until we were nose to nose.

Then, taking charge for once, I tilted my head slightly and closed my eyes, closing the remaining distance with disbelieving joy. I kissed him tenderly, the love I felt welling up in me and hazing my vision and awareness. I realised that there were fresh tears streaming down my cheeks, but nothing could tear me away from the miracle that was Edward's presence here, now.

He kissed me back, one hand sweeping up my back and neck and cupping my cheek, wiping away the tears of relief, joy and doubt that streaked my face and dripped onto my blouse. His other hand nestled at my waist, pulling me closer to him as we knelt in the field, and I gladly responded when he deepened the kiss, his tongue softly grazing my bottom lip.

Our tongues and lips danced together and I poured everything I had into the kiss: my fear and loss of the last weeks, my incredulity that he was here, my joy and relief that he was unharmed. I never wanted to pull away, to lose this connection to Edward that felt soul-deep, but I reluctantly let him go when he broke the kiss, breathing a little more quickly than usual.

"I've missed you, so much," he murmured, pulling me into a tight hug, and I breathed in his scent which immediately eased the tension within me.

"I've missed you, too," I replied quietly, holding myself even closer to him. "I can't describe how I felt – I thought I'd lost you."

He stiffened in my arms and pulled back, and my body instantly mourned the loss of contact, even as I noticed the tense expression on his face. "What?" he demanded, his voice tight.

"The telegram," I explained, bewildered. "The one that said you were dead. Well, presumed dead, but it comes to the same thing." My throat tightened even thinking of the way I'd felt when I'd read those words, the way I had simply crumbled, the most important thing in my life taken from me.

"No!" he spat, suddenly angry. "They told me they'd sent word that I was alright. They said you knew I was found."

I made no reply but watched his face with concern, noticing the way his fury increased, his nostrils flaring, and then how the anger faded to be replaced with defeated resignation.

When he seemed calmer again, I asked, "How is it that you're here at all? What happened? Are you on leave?"

"No," surprise flitted across his face as he went on, "they really didn't tell you anything, did they? I was injured, Bella. I'm no use to them anymore."

My eyes immediately roamed over him, searching for any wounds or bandages. He had scars, it's true, including one across his cheek which I now traced the length of with my finger, but I couldn't see anything that would get him discharged from his service.

"What?" I asked, perplexed.

He shifted closer to me, bringing his face down to my level, and looked seriously into my eyes. "We all went over the top and the Hun started firing everything they had at us. A shell landed right next to me and I was thrown into a crater. The shrapnel from the explosion burst my eardrum," he explained, lifting a hand to his right ear as if to demonstrate. "Now I can only hear in one ear, and the army won't take someone damaged like that."

My hand followed the trail his had made, and my fingers brushed against his ear, so gently. "You can't hear in this ear?" I asked, and he shook his head, his eyes betraying a touch of regret. "Does that make you sad?" I whispered, and his lips twitched up into a small smile.

"A little. My hearing isn't as clear anymore – I can't hear things from very far off. That makes me sad," he told me, and I bowed my head to stare at my lap. He put a finger under my chin, however, and lifted it until I was looking into his eyes again.

"Yet none of that," he continued, "compares to how happy I am to be home with you. I would gladly sacrifice more than an ear to be with you, to be able to hold you whenever I want. Besides," he added with his eyes shining teasingly, "I have another one. How many ears do I really need?"

"Oh, Edward!" I choked, half-laughing, half-crying, and he smiled tenderly back at me.

"I'm alright, really, Bella. I'm here now and I'm not going away again."

Something stirred inside me, a feeling I had long given up on, and I realised that it was hope. "You promise?" I asked, on the verge of laughter, but I had already launched myself at him, clinging to his neck as tears started streaking my cheeks anew.

His arms wrapped tightly around me and I pressed myself as close as possible, breathing in his scent and revelling in the feel of his skin against mine. He held me for a long time, neither of us moving except to pull the other closer, or making a noise except to sigh quietly. In his arms I felt whole, restored, _fixed_. I felt like me again.

I pulled back and looked closely at his face, searching for other marks that gave away that he had been at war. All I could see, however, was Edward, his eyes shining and a hint of a smirk on his face which was the same, beneath the cosmetic differences. Smiling at him like that, I realised that I'd forgotten to say the most obvious thing in the world. "I love you, Edward," I told him, the words ringing with emotion and truth, the feeling sweeping through my body and totally overwhelming me.

He reached out and dried the tears that still trickled from my eyes with his thumb. "I love you, too, my Bella. More than you will ever know."

We stared at other for some time and I, for one, was entirely lost looking at him. He was here; he was staying; he_ loved_ me. I just felt so lucky, in a way that was entirely undeserved. I could never get tired of being with him, and our future seemed to stretch before us. It was like we had been given a reprieve, and now we had all the time in the world.

Some time later, a thought came to me and I murmured, "You kept your promise after all."

"Did you doubt me?" he asked, feigning outrage, and I rolled my eyes.

"Don't get too cocky," I retorted, smirking back at him. "You have some other promises to keep, mister. I believe you promised to take me travelling."

"I never agreed to that one," he came back with a smile, but I brushed his objections aside.

"You agreed by proxy." He laughed, and it sounded trouble free and effortless.

"Well, you promised to marry me," I reminded him, and his eyes grew warm and soft as he drew me closer in his arms.

"I fully intend to keep that promise. Which brings me to something else. I seem to recall telling you I'd get you a ring – promising you, in fact."

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget that one."

He chuckled again, and my heart lifted at the sound. "No chance. First opportunity I get, I'm going ring shopping." He leant closer to whisper in my ear, and my pulse raced in response to his proximity. "Right after I ask your father for your hand."

That effectively silenced me, and when he pulled back, he smiled warmly to dispel my anxiety. "He'll be pleased, no doubt," he assured me, right before he leaned close and placed a soft kiss on my lips, eliciting a contented sigh from me.

"We need to go home now," he told me gently, standing up and then helping me to my feet. "I need to see my parents and Alice and let them know I'm alright."

"You haven't already done that?" I asked, surprised, but he shook his head.

"I haven't even been to our street yet. As I was walking from the station through the outskirts of town, I just had this feeling that I wanted to go to our meadow, so I did. It was too strong to resist."

"I'm so glad you came back," I told him earnestly, wrapping my arms around his waist and burying my face in his chest. "I love you, so much."

Without saying another word, he bent down and kissed my on the top of my head, his arms winding securely around me. We just stood in the darkening meadow like that for another moment, savouring the feel of the other safely in our arms.

After a minute, though, he took my hand and started leading me back to his house, frequently glancing down at me and smiling beautifully. I reached up to touch the scar on his cheek and asked him how he had got it, and he laughingly told me. I moved onto the ones on his arms, working over a few that I could see on our way home. Although I had to stop when we reached the door, I looked forward to continuing my exploration later.

We paused just outside the Masens' front door and turned to face each other, Edward gazing solemnly into my eyes. "Help me," he pleaded, and I nodded immediately, tilting my face up and getting rewarded with a kiss for my efforts.

He pushed open the door and led us inside, never letting go of my hand as we entered the dim hallway, the lamps not having been lit. We walked quietly through the ground floor, our footsteps hardly echoing on the wooden boards, but almost all the rooms were deserted. I thought I heard a noise coming from the front room, so I gestured towards the door and we opened it hesitantly.

Alice, who was nearest the door, looked up when she heard it open and her eyes grew wide as saucers. A strangled gasp left her lips, which caught the attention of Mr and Mrs Masen who were sitting around the room, reading and sewing. All three of them stared open-mouthed at the apparition in the doorway, before Mrs Masen let out a loud sob and jumped to her feet, taking a few slow steps towards us.

"My boy!" she cried, her voice high and distorted, and Edward released me to step forward and wrap his arms around her in a strong filial embrace. She clung to him for a moment, and when she let go her face was slightly blotchy as she appeared to have yet to take a breath. Edward ushered her to a seat and crouched before her, holding her hands and assuring her that he was well and that it had all been a mistake.

Mr Masen looked stunned and had not risen from his seat, but Alice stood and came quietly to me while her parents fussed over their son, back from the dead. "Bella, how is this possible?" she asked, her voice laden with love and emotion. "Can it be real?"

"I'm not sure," I told her honestly, "but whatever kind of dream it is, I don't want to wake up."

She shook her head, looking dazed, but a smile lit her face when Edward turned to look at her. "Ali," he said, smiling warmly, "my little sister." She ran to him and threw herself into his arms, beaming brightly but her eyes were shining with tears.

"Edward! We thought you weren't coming back."

"I know," he frowned, looking over her shoulder at me. "Bella told me what happened. It was a terrible mistake."

They hugged tightly for another moment, then Edward launched into an explanation once again, and I decided to slip away and leave the family to their rapturous reunion. I was just sneaking away when Edward appeared behind me and put his hand on my shoulder, pulling me back into the midst of the celebrations and folding me in his arms.

"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured in my ear, and I shrugged.

"I thought you might want to be with your family."

"You're part of the family now," he insisted, and his assurance lit a warm glow inside me. "The only place you should be is right here."

He held me securely and gave me a soft kiss when his parents were distracted, his father hugging his mother and attempting to stem the flow of her tears. I caught sight of Alice in the background, smiling affectionately at me, and I gave her a small smile in return.

_This is perfect,_ I thought, blissfully content as Edward's warm arms surrounded me, the darkness outside held firmly back by the softly glowing lamps in the front room. _This is what I want. Forever._

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**Well?**

**Is that what you wanted? Happy? Disappointed? Angry? I want to hear it.**

**This is the last proper chapter, after all, so if you've never reviewed before, let _this_ be the chapter when you do. It's never too late so, go on, have your say. I'm listening.**

**I will try to have the epilogue out soon, but as I haven't actually written it yet, it will take a few days. Keep your eye on that inbox - you don't want to miss the very last installment of G&R, do you?**

**Ooh, and voting is still open (until the 29th) for the second round of the Indies, so if you didn't vote before because you were angry I killed Edward, now is the time to change that! Hehe. Nominations are also now being accepted for the Twilight All Human Awards (link on my profile). Ahem, you know, just saying ;)**

**Thank you, everybody, and I hope I hear from lots of you :)**


	38. Epilogue

**HUGE APOLOGIES that this AN is practically as long as the actual chapter, but I have a lot to get through. Skip it if you want, but you never know what you might miss :P**

**Thank you to whoever nominated _Guns and Roses_ for the _Twilight All Human Awards_ (Best Romance) - I really appreciate it, hehe. Voting is open from now until the 25th August and the link's on my profile, in case you feel like swinging by ;)**

**Thanks as well for being patient waiting for the epilogue. It was surprisingly difficult for me to write, but I got to it in the end. As this is the very last update *sob* I have a lot of 'thank you's to get on with, so bear with me.**

**Firstly, thank you times a million to Cullenista, my ever-patient beta, who stuck with me even when I scared the living daylights out of her and insisted on doing things my way :P I can't say how much I've appreciated your support, and I honestly don't know where I would ever have found the courage to post the first chapter if you hadn't taken a look at it at my timid request. I bow to your greatness (no, really, I do).**

**Secondly, THANK YOU to everyone who's read this story - the response has been better than I could ever have hoped for and I have loved reading every single review (well, _almost_ every one :P). Some people have been with me from the beginning, and I love you more than I can say, and some have joined later, which is amazing, too. To everybody who's ever helped me or offered support or advice, I owe you big time :P**

**Now for some administrative details:**

**_FAQs - _**

******This is the _final_ chapter of _Guns and Roses_ and I have no intention of writing a sequel. Sorry to everybody who was hoping for one, but this is a self-contained story and it is now over. Writing a sequel just wouldn't feel right to me.**

**I don't know if I'm going to write anything else - ideas are spinning around my brain like crazy but it remains to be seen whether they will settle on paper. Feel free to put me on alert so you know if I post anything new, and with any luck this won't be the last thing I write :)**

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Mini history lesson:

The offensive in which Edward was injured (Battle of Amiens - August 1918) has been seen as the beginning of the end of WWI. The Allied armies (Britain, France, America, Belgium, Australia, Canada, Italy, Portugal, Japan...) were growing in strength due to extra units being moved to the Western Front, and the German commanders didn't anticipate a big attack at Amiens. There were an estimated 30,000 losses on the first day of the offensive, the 8th August, and the Allied forces gained an average of 7 miles.

The Central powers (Germany etc.) started to collapse from September with Bulgaria signing the first armistice agreement. Dissatisfaction had been growing in Germany during the war years and as a result of a revolution, the country was declared a republic on the 9th November. An armistice with Germany was signed two days later and on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month a ceasefire came into effect. The last peace treaties were signed in Versailles in May of the following year.

The 11th November was declared Remembrance Day by King George V in 1919 and a permanent cenotaph (meaning 'empty tomb') was unveiled on the anniversary of the armistice in 1920. Crowds gathered from the night before to await the procession of the coffin of the Unknown British Warrior through London to Westminster Abbey, where it was buried along with many of the Kings and Queens of England. For more information about this ceremony (which I find incredibly poignant) see the link on my profile to a BBC article.

The inscription on the tomb was as follows:

BENEATH THIS STONE RESTS THE BODY   
OF A BRITISH WARRIOR   
UNKNOWN BY NAME OR RANK   
BROUGHT FROM FRANCE TO LIE AMONG   
THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS OF THE LAND   
AND BURIED HERE ON ARMISTICE DAY   
11 NOV: 1920, IN THE PRESENCE OF   
HIS MAJESTY KING GEORGE V   
HIS MINISTERS OF STATE   
THE CHIEFS OF HIS FORCES   
AND A VAST CONCOURSE OF THE NATION

THUS ARE COMMEMORATED THE MANY   
MULTITUDES WHO DURING THE GREAT   
WAR OF 1914 - 1918 GAVE THE MOST THAT   
MAN CAN GIVE LIFE ITSELF   
FOR GOD   
FOR KING AND COUNTRY   
FOR LOVED ONES HOME AND EMPIRE   
FOR THE SACRED CAUSE OF JUSTICE AND   
THE FREEDOM OF THE WORLD

THEY BURIED HIM AMONG THE KINGS BECAUSE HE   
HAD DONE GOOD TOWARD GOD AND TOWARD   
HIS HOUSE

Consider this a _very_ potted history of the end of the First World War, just intended to contextualise the epilogue. This final chapter, and really the whole story, is dedicated to the sixteen million soldiers and civilians who lost their lives in the four years of conflict:

1,698,000 French deaths.  
1,226,000 British Imperial deaths.  
117,000 American deaths.  
2,477,000 German deaths.  
1,240,000 Italian deaths.  
3,311,000 Russian deaths.

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**One more thing: I would really like it if you would play Eva Cassidy's version of 'Fields of Gold' while reading this chapter (possibly on repeat) - link's on my profile. It was in my head when I first conceived the idea for this story, and I always intended to use it for the previous chapter, but somehow it didn't quite work out. Please? **

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Epilogue: In Me, Past, Present, Future Meet

**EPOV**

_11__th__ November 1920, London_

A cold, sharp wind swept down the street, and each head bowed as its owner tugged their coat closer and huddled into the warmth of their scarf. Frost still lay upon the surface of the ground, the morning unseasonably cold, each footstep crunching on the hard paving stones. By unspoken consensus, a hush had spread over the assembled crowd, permeating through every pore and into, it seemed, my very soul.

There was an expectant air over the gathering, the road lined and packed with onlookers waiting to pay their respects to one of their own, brought home at last. Not a word passed amongst the immense crowd as the guard of honour led the procession, the horse drawn gun carriage carrying the coffin of the Unknown Warrior through London. As the wheels of the carriage rumbled through the street, an audible silence fell over the crowd, the weight of loss and grief pressing down on every person present.

I felt Bella's warmth at my side and subconsciously sidled a little closer to her, hemmed in as we were by the hushed multitude. When I was as close as could be allowed in public, I reached out and took her cold hand in mine, brushing my skin over hers and feeling the ring nestling on her fourth finger. A small smile crept onto my face, despite the burden of sorrow pressing on us, and I squeezed her hand just as the carriage drew to a stop by the new cenotaph and King George unveiled the monument, placing a wreath on the flag-draped coffin.

As the clock struck eleven, Big Ben started to chime, the signal came for the two minutes' silence to begin, and the already mute crowed ducked their heads in a grave salute to the fallen. My mind was flying, the thoughts coming too thick and fast to stifle, and although I tried to maintain respectful musings, I couldn't control the torrent of memories streaming through my head.

So much had changed and yet so little since Bella and I had pledged ourselves to one another, once in the cornfield in Corbie, and again in the little chapel in Forks over a year ago. She was my wife, and I was the happiest man in the world, but it was undeniable that our felicity had come at a price.

The wedding had been beautiful, Bella glowing in a simple white dress, smiling with tears cascading down her cheeks. The front pew where her parents should have sat was conspicuously empty; Charlie had fallen ill again the previous spring and died in Bella's arms not three weeks before the wedding. I had offered to postpone it, wanted to even, but Bella was adamant that it should proceed as before. Perhaps she was eager to replace the family she'd lost, or perhaps she simply wanted to marry me as much as I did her.

Whether it was her aim or not, she had gained a loving family, of that there was no doubt. Alice sobbed and clung to the pair of us, Jasper's ring glittering on her finger with the man himself hovering behind her. Their date was set for the following Christmas, and my little sister looked happier than she ever had.

My mother was ecstatic, of course, and my father brimming with pride as he shook my hand and clapped me on the back. "You've done well for yourself, my boy," he told me gruffly at the small reception after the church. "I don't see how you could've found yourself a better wife."

His words meant the world to me, and I solemnly promised him that I would never forget how lucky I was. This vow was as much for Charlie as for my own father; wherever he was, I was sure he could see us now, and I needed him to know I would take care of his daughter. She may have walked down the aisle alone, head held high even as tears glistened on her cheeks, but I was secure in her father's blessing, given many months before his death. Somehow, I knew he could hear and was glad.

Before we left on our honeymoon, we had one stop to make. In Fork's tiny cemetery, I watched my new wife kneel before two matching gravestones, one smooth and neat and one slightly weathered and dull. She cried again, and I ached to hold her, but she motioned for me to stay back. This was a private moment, just between her and her cherished parents, and I knew I should not intrude. I had never known loss like this and I wondered at Bella's courage. Even when saying goodbye to her beloved mother and father, she was poised and brave.

When she was finished, she stood silently before the stones for a minute more, laying fresh flowers on each mound. Then, she turned and walked straight into my arms, holding herself against my chest as she wept, and I could just make out the words, "Mama," and "Father," through her tears. I cradled her gently and, sweeping her up into my arms, swore that I would protect her from hurt with everything in my power. I only hoped that would be enough.

So Bella and I began our lives together as man and wife with the same bittersweet mix of exquisite joy and sadness that had clung to us from the first time we had professed our love for each other. We travelled, saw the world, just as I had promised Bella – if only by proxy – and she took delight in everything we did. Our lovemaking was sweet and passionate, fuelled often by the same desperate longing that drove us from the first and, for the most part, we were happy.

In the months of our engagement before the war ended, needing to remain a part of the conflict that had so shaped us, we both worked and saved enough to support our travels, with a little help from my father. Bella continued her nursing in a civilian hospital in Seattle, and I took a position in a factory producing ammunition and aircraft parts. It sickened me to churn out the weapons that I had seen do so much damage, but I couldn't bear to do nothing. At least this way I didn't feel like I had completely abandoned my brothers in arms.

With our savings, therefore, and few obligations tying us to Forks, we took our time traversing the continent, though mostly steering clear of Northern France. Perhaps one day we would feel ready to return, but that time had certainly not yet arrived. Although the memories of things I had seen never left my mind, I shuddered to hear them talked of out loud, and Bella seemed to instinctively realise this. We rarely spoke of our time in France, except in honeyed reminiscences, and the names of our lost friends were taboo. I never forgot them, though, and I would bet everything I possessed that Bella's mind was similarly occupied.

In December of that year, we took a break from our foreign explorations and made our way back home, in time to spend Christmas with the family. My mother was overjoyed to see us so happy together, and welcomed Bella like a long-lost daughter. With Jasper safely returned from the war, to Alice's unspeakable delight and relief, the family felt almost complete. Bella slept curled tightly in my arms those nights we stayed in Forks, the pair of us finally recognised by my parents as man and wife. I comforted her as best I could and, though I watched carefully for any reticence, her smiles and laughs with our family seemed genuine enough.

On the 31st December 1919, Alice and Jasper vowed to love and cherish and forsake all others before their proud family and friends in the small chapel. My mother wept with pride and joy, once again, and even my father was misty-eyed. Bella and Alice hugged each other tightly, their happiness and affection palpable to the whole room, and I congratulated Jasper with unforced gladness. He was a good man – it had been some time since I'd pretended otherwise – and he would be good for my sister. Of course, if he put a foot out of line, I wouldn't hesitate to pummel him into the ground, but such brotherly feelings could be put aside until after the reception.

We stayed in Forks for some weeks, celebrating the start of the new year with my parents and the newlyweds, and when they left for their honeymoon, Bella and I too set off on the next leg of our travels. We marked my twenty-first birthday in Berlin, and Bella's a few months later in Paris, and so it was that we had found ourselves in London on the second anniversary of Armistice Day, two years to the day after the very last shot was fired.

Drifting back to the present, I noticed that there was movement again around the cenotaph, the frozen guard coming back to life and the gun carriage once again being pulled forward, on to its next destination and final resting place. It took several minutes for the still crowd to reawaken, but gradually muted chatter broke out again and deadened noise filled the street.

Bella and I remained standing where we were, not yet ready to leave behind the memories that still followed us. Some time later, I felt a light pressure on my hand and looked down to see Bella's upturned face, her eyes fathomless and gazing into mine. I returned her look, trying to convey with one glance everything that was too difficult to say. Somehow, I knew she understood, and I was grateful.

We turned to walk away from the barriers lined with policemen, her eyes still locked on mine and her hand clasped between my fingers, and the world just melted away.

This day was not about the future; we did not think of the day our first child was born, eight months and twelve days from today, when I hovered anxiously outside the room until the midwife called me in, and we beamed down together at our beautiful baby girl.

Nor was it about the past, our paths crossing and inter-weaving from the day I first saw her walking down our street holding her mother's hand, her hair tangled and tousled from playing in the field.

No, this day was about now, this very moment, which was slipping like sand through our fingers even as we lived it. This moment for which we had come so far, battled so hard; this second for which we had sacrificed our youth and innocence, our childlike views of perfection.

Damaged as I was, I was hers and she was mine. We were together: two bodies, two souls as one, her life in my hands and mine in hers. As she sighed gently at my side, her brown eyes looking right into me, I thought, _Bella, I love you,_ and as if in response, she smiled_._

**THE END**

_In Flanders fields the poppies blow_  
_Between the crosses, row on row_,   
_That mark our place; and in the sky_  
_The larks, still bravely singing, fly_  
_Scarce heard amid the guns below_.

_We are the dead. Short days ago_  
_We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow_,   
_Loved, and were loved, and now we lie_  
_In Flanders fields_.

_Take up our quarrel with the foe_:   
_To you from failing hands we throw_  
_The torch; be yours to hold it high_.   
_If ye break faith with us who die_  
_We shall not sleep, though poppies grow_  
_In Flanders fields_.


End file.
